


the love definition

by tkreyesevandiaz



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, A bit of everything to be honest, Arguing, Celebrations, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Firehouse 118 Family (9-1-1), Future Fic, Gen, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Married Life, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Christopher Diaz, Parties, Slice of Life, Speeches, Through the Years, Time Skips, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trigger warnings in chapter notes, literally everyone's here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkreyesevandiaz/pseuds/tkreyesevandiaz
Summary: Christopher knows Buck and Eddie are in love, but he learns about what that means as the years fly by.(Or, the five times Christopher sees them in love and the one time he tells them about it)
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz/Original Female Character, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 269
Kudos: 591





	1. nine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! 
> 
> I'm super excited/scared for this particular fic, because it's been an idea since April 15, and it's July 1 now. I didn't start writing it until later but whatever it is...I'm terrified of posting it xD (sorry about the summary omg I suck at those)
> 
> Some quick things: This fic is going to be completely in Christopher's POV (except for one tiny scene later on) and it's going to span over 19 years. I really, really hope I can capture his character well, because I've never written something so focused on him before. 
> 
> [Sky](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ao3theskyisblue) beta'd this for me, so a very big thank you to her. And additionally, Aisha, Warda, Francesca, Eli, Anam served as sounding boards when I couldn't get my mind to work to big hugs to them too!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this!

Christopher Diaz was 7 years old when he first met Evan Buckley. 

Back then, he’d met him briefly, surrounded by the chaos of the city as they recovered from a 7.1 magnitude earthquake. They hadn’t been in LA long; maybe only a couple of months. It was confusing to be swarmed by all these new people, having to make new friends and having only his dad around.

One of the best parts about moving to LA was that here, no one was fazed that Christopher was a little different from the rest of them. Sure, there would be lingering looks that he could see even at the young age of seven, but they were still nice people. Willing to let him do things on his own without coddling him.

That didn’t happen in El Paso, and definitely not with his grandparents around. 

Christopher was glad to have his dad back, to go on an adventure that meant spending more time with him. His dad tried so hard for him, and it was nice to get their own space. All of that was great, but unarguably, the best part of moving to LA was that Evan Buckley came into their lives.

Christopher was confused when he saw the blond man in the car after the earthquake, but hadn’t thought much of it. He was just so happy to be back with his dad after a scary day. But the man had seemed nice, and it was only proven when he turned in his seat and introduced himself as Buck. 

_“Hey, little man. My name’s Buck, what’s yours?”_

_“Is that your real name?” Christopher barely heard Daddy scolding him for the blunt question, still fixated on the man in the driver’s seat. Buck took it all in stride anyway, only laughing merrily. It was a nice sound - comforting._

_“No, my real name is Evan, but everyone calls me Buck.”_

_“Cool. My name’s Christopher.”_

_“It’s very nice to meet you, Christopher. Ready to go home?” He was nice, Christopher decided. He looked at his dad, who looked surprised to see the two of them getting along so quickly._

_Even then, Christopher knew that his dad didn’t have many friends. It wasn’t that he wasn’t friendly; Daddy just preferred to be on his own. And he focused all his attention on Christopher and on work, so there was no time for anything else._

_With Buck, Christopher saw the potential. His dad had someone by his side after years of being alone and that thought made him happy._

_“Yeah. It’s been a long day,” Christopher said solemnly, a yawn splitting his jaw. He sleepily heard the two men laughing in the front seats as he began to drift off, now safe._

After that, Christopher began to see Buck around more. Sometimes not even with his dad, because Buck was also a good friend of Carla’s. Sometimes, Buck dropped by just to see him, bringing a new toy or a new book each time.

Buck took him all over town, to his favourite diner to have huge cheeseburgers and ice cream sundaes without telling Daddy, to a park where Chris could play freely. He showed him a more secluded part of the city to watch Los Angeles from above, they ate ice cream together late at night in Buck’s apartment, and played video games together.

Slowly, Buck became his best friend, too.

* * *

Christopher Diaz was 9 years old when he realized his dad liked Buck. _Liked-_ liked Buck.

It was a little confusing at first. The way his dad and his Buck always seemed to know where the other was and the way they did things together. Buck came over to spend time with them, and in Christopher’s mind, they were a _family_. 

They went to the zoo together, the aquarium together, Buck dropped him off at school sometimes and came with Daddy to pick him up. He stayed the night and made Chris and Daddy waffles in the morning. Daddy washed Buck’s clothes in the laundry and they went to work together, too. 

It was a system that just _worked._

At that age, he didn’t have any one concept of what romantic love was. He thought that all love was pretty much the same. They were simple facts; Daddy loved him, Buck loved him, and Daddy and Buck loved each other.

It wasn’t until he asked Carla the difference that he understood the situation a little more.

“Hey, Carla?”

“Hmm?” Carla hummed from where she was making a sandwich for his after-school snack.

“Are there different types of love?”

“That’s an interesting question.” Carla looked at him suspiciously, but he just shrugged. He was curious. She was looking at him with that knowing look of hers, the one Daddy said made her smarter than anyone else in the world.

“I think there are. There’s the love you have for your family - whether by blood or otherwise. Then, there’s the love you have for your friends. There’s a different type of love for your partner, or significant other. And then there’s the love you have for your child, which is greater and stronger than anything else in this world. But what matters is that all that love lives in our hearts, free for us to give. It doesn’t cost anything to be kind and loving.”

Christopher already knew that Daddy loved him more than anything in the world. 

Hmm. Buck _was_ Daddy’s partner - maybe this made more sense than he'd thought about before. If what Carla was saying was true, Daddy really did love Buck differently. 

“Does Daddy love Buck? Like he loved Mommy?”

He could tell the question surprised his friend, because she nearly dropped the entire bread loaf onto the ground before turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I think Daddy looks at Buck like he used to look at Mommy. Or like how Chimney looks at Aunt Maddie. Or how Cap looks at Aunt Athena. Or how Hen looks at Aunt Karen,” Christopher listed off all these members of his dad’s firehouse that he’d noticed a little more, ever since he’d started thinking about his dad and Buck together.

“Does that bother you?”

“No. I think Daddy’s lonely and he misses Mommy. He’s not so lonely when Buck’s here.” Carla’s face softened as she left the sandwich to come sit with him at the dining table, where he was busy coloring a picture of him, Buck and Daddy. Buck’s birthmark wasn’t the right color and it was frustrating.

“Christopher, your daddy is always going to love your mom. That will never change, you understand? And he’s not lonely if he has the best kid in the world! I don’t know if your dad loves Buck or not - though I do think he does - but neither Buck nor Eddie will ever do anything that will make you uncomfortable. They both love you _so_ much.”

He nodded at that, knowing this to be true. Buck loved him as much as his dad did, a fact that Christopher never questioned and rooted to every single memory of his Bucky, ever since they’d first met.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” He dropped the crayon, thinking about how to tell Carla about this. 

How was he supposed to explain that he _wanted_ Buck to live with them all the time? That he didn’t like when Buck had to go home, or when he had to leave. “I just think Daddy should tell Buck. I want Buck to be here all the time. Why doesn’t he just _tell_ him?”

Carla hesitated for a second, her eyes on the picture he had stopped drawing. “You know...sometimes it’s scary for people to admit what they’re feeling to themselves. It’s even harder to tell someone that you’re in love with them, that you want to start a family together.”

“But Daddy told me it’s okay to be scared. Buck says the same thing.”

“And it is, sugar. I think your dad is just trying to figure out his own feelings, and to decide what’s best for you. It takes time and patience. Even more so when there's a kid involved.”

Christopher nodded again and picked his crayon back up as Carla went back to the kitchen. 

Her words stayed with him all day, as his dad came back from work, tired from his shift but still coming to sweep him in a huge hug. Christopher paid attention to the way Daddy told him about the things he and Buck did at work today and showed him the drawing he made.

Daddy grinned widely at the picture, looking happy as he hung it up on the fridge, and that only made Christopher more determined to bring Buck into their lives forever.

He could certainly help his Daddy with this much.

* * *

Later that night, Christopher worked up the nerve to ask his dad about it. He didn’t want to hurt him or make him sad.

“Daddy?” He whispered quietly as he got up to turn the lights off. His dad paused and turned around with a smile.

“Yeah, bud?”

“Can I ask you something?” Daddy came over and knelt by his bed, brushing a hand through his hair. The gesture was familiar, and Christopher leaned into it.

“Of course, Christopher. What’s up?”

“Do you love Buck?” He wasn’t expecting his dad to laugh, but the sound had him relaxing a little against his pillow.

“Of course I do, don’t you?”

“Yeah but you-you love him in a different way.” Christopher watched as his father froze, a weird look passing across his face. Clearly, Christopher’s observation had surprised him. Just like that one time Chris had told him about his wish to Santa, for him to come back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Daddy said softly. 

It felt like he'd won something when Daddy admitted it.

For almost as long as Christopher could remember, it had always been him and his dad. The time that Chris could remember with his mom, they were the months that Daddy had been in Afghanistan, protecting the country. 

From the minute he was home, Christopher and his dad were two peas in a pod. He didn’t like to be without Daddy, and his dad tried to make as much time as possible for them to spend together. And somehow, even then, Christopher had noticed that his dad was tired, weighed down by something he tried his best not to show him.

His dad was protective like that, never wanting Christopher to worry. The thought had him turning to hug Daddy tightly. He smoothed a hand down his back, crawling up onto the small bed to nestle him under his chin - just like all those nights they spent reading stories together.

“Is that okay with you, Chris? You know you’re always going to be my number one man, right?”

“Yeah, and Buck likes me better than you anyway,” Christopher mumbled, smiling as his dad’s chest rumbled with laughter. “I just don’t like it when Buck leaves. He belongs here, with us.” 

“Yeah, he does,” he agreed, humming thoughtfully. Christopher straightened to look at Daddy.

“Then why don’t you tell him you love him and make him live here forever?”

Daddy opened and closed his mouth a few times. He knew that meant Daddy was trying to think about what to say. “It’s not that easy, kiddo. Buck and I would have to have a long talk, because I have to ask him what he wants too, right? It’ll be a huge change for all three of us. And I don’t want you to feel like I’m replacing your mom.”

“We could never replace Mommy. I know you miss her too, but you’re less sad when Buck is here.” Christopher pointed out. His dad frowned at that.

“I’m not sad when I get to spend time with you, kid. Yeah, Buck makes me happy too, but for both of us, you make us the happiest, and I know that. Your Bucky loves you just as much as I do, and we’re a family whether Buck and I get together or not.” Daddy explained, pushing some curls away from Christopher’s forehead.

“It’s not the same.” He whispered. Daddy said nothing to that, so Christopher plowed on. “So will you tell Buck? That you love him?” There was that flicker of excitement, and a bone-deep faith that Buck loved them too. 

“If you’re okay with it, yeah. When I get the chance.” 

Christopher nodded vigorously. "Tomorrow's movie night, you can tell him then," he insisted, making Daddy laugh again.

“Maybe not _that_ soon, but we'll see," his dad said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "You’re pretty smart for a nine-year-old, you know that?”

Christopher only laughed, snuggling into his father’s chest. “Yeah, you tell me all the time. We’re going to be okay, kid.”

“I love you, Chris. _So,_ so much.” His dad murmured as Chris started dozing off. He patted Daddy’s side in response, too tired for words.

That night, he dreamt of the family he had been drawing earlier, falling asleep with a smile on his face.


	2. fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so. This is a short chapter, which is why I wanted to post it today but was indecisive and 6 people told me I should so here [this is dedicated to those 6, you know who you are ;)]. Also, I didn't think I'd get so much love on Chapter 1 <3 Thank you guys!
> 
> Another note: In this fic, Christopher remains an only child. Otherwise, I totally foresee them having a daughter named Vera - who features in another fic of mine ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

It was five years later that Christopher _really_ thought of it again. 

Though, it had always stayed at the back of his mind. It was hard not to, not when his dads were so in love with each other that _everyone_ in the world could see it.

They even had a name for it. 

_The Love Definition._

May had coded the name during one of their sleepovers, and it included all the adults in their lives, all the couples; Aunt Maddie and Chimney, Uncle Michael and Dr. Hale, Aunt Hen and Aunt Karen, Aunt Athena and Cap. And obviously, Dad and Buck.

Now that Harry, Denny and Chris were older, they could see it too, and it only made sense to have a name for it. There was something strong between all the couples of the fire family, something all of the kids secretly wanted but didn’t really admit. _The Love Definition_ gave them a role model for the romantic relationships in their lives.

There was even a whole book.

Not that any of the kids would admit it.

On the surface, it was a little gross that they were always kissing around the house. They were never far away from each other, which - to Christopher - was kind of stupid considering they _worked_ together. They were practically together 24/7.

Secretly though, Christopher was happy that his dad was now completely happy. There was a lightness to him that hadn’t been present before they started dating, even on the rougher days. Buck seemed happier too, his easy grins a little wider.

Dad and Buck had gotten married four years ago, in a small ceremony. Christopher had been the resident ten-year-old wedding planner, and he’d been the best man on both Dad’s and Papa’s sides. Cap officiated the ceremony, Aunt Hen and Chimney were in charge of the decorations and music, Abuela had walked Dad down the aisle and Aunt Maddie had walked Papa. 

It didn’t take long for Christopher to ask Buck to adopt him; maybe two weeks after the wedding. Since then, Buck was sometimes Papa, sometimes Buck, sometimes Bucky, but just as it had been even before Dad and Buck started dating, he was always one of Christopher’s parents.

Not that the past five years had been without their own difficulties. There were the obvious workplace relationship problems; Dad and Papa had gone through HR multiple times to fight to stay on the same team. Then there were his dad’s parents, who hadn’t taken the news of Dad getting married again very well - especially to a man. They’d showed up for the wedding, but Pepa told Christopher that they weren’t happy about it.

Papa’s parents had sent a cursory wedding gift and left it at that. Christopher remembered bringing the envelope from the mail box, only for Papa’s expression to crumple. He remembered Dad taking the envelope and tossing it somewhere else before bringing Buck in a hug, murmuring words of comfort.

Despite those few setbacks, they were still happy, which was what Christopher had wanted all along. 

It was a lazy afternoon when he started thinking about _The Love Definition_ again. Now, at the age of fourteen, Christopher understood everything _a lot_ more than he did at the age of nine.

He was curled up in the armchair by the TV, with a copy of Oscar Wilde’s _The Importance of Being Earnest_. Ninth grade meant English literature reading, and while Christopher had hated the text they read last month, this play was interesting. It was funny, like one of those comedy of errors that Aunt Athena and Chimney liked to watch.

He was just at the part where Algernon Moncrieff arrives at the Manor House and meets Cecily Cardew under the guise of Ernest Worthing when something caught his eye.

His parents were spread out together on the main couch, Buck’s head in Dad’s lap. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to doze off during one of their lazy days, but something about today had Christopher peeking at them from the corner of his eye.

They made a blissful bubble, completely at peace where they sat. Or lay, in Buck’s case. 

Dad was working on a crossword puzzle, which was weird on its own, but Christopher just assumed that it was one of the ones Buck didn’t finish. They liked to joke that Buck never finished _any_ of them, and Dad got so annoyed that he took it on himself.

“Hmmm...a temporary insanity curable by marriage according to Ambrose Bierce.” Dad whispered the clue. Christopher made a face to himself. Who was Ambrose Bierce?

“Eddie Diaz,” Papa said mockingly, without missing a beat but still half-asleep where his head was resting on Dad’s thigh. “You were pretty insane before we got married. I cured you, didn’t I?” Dad pulled the crossword down to glare at his husband playfully. Even though his eyes were closed, Christopher could see that Buck was smiling. 

“Nice try. Four letters.”

“Love.”

“Okay, love can’t be the answer to every four letter clue,” he scoffed, before looking back at the puzzle. He sat up a little straighter as he filled it in, peering down in disbelief. Christopher laughed to himself, knowing that look like the back of his hand. 

As usual, Buck was right. 

“If you know all of these clues, why don’t you finish these yourself? You always leave them incomplete.” Another familiar complaint.

“If I finished them, I wouldn’t get to see _that_ smile on your face,” Buck answered, now opening his eyes. “And I already told you, _looooveee_ is the answer to everything." He stretched the word out, grinning widely.

“You’re ridiculous.” Dad shook his head, laughed and leaned down to kiss Papa. 

Christopher wrinkled his nose and sank in his seat, hiding behind Algernon and Cecily and Manor House again. He couldn’t remember either Papa or Dad being this... _affectionate_ before they got together. Even after all these years, they still couldn’t stop _kissing_.

Ew. 

Christopher thought about what Buck had said. 

_If I finished them, I wouldn’t get to see that smile on your face._

Perhaps that was a part of love too. Doing things that made your significant other laugh, or made them shake their head with fond exasperation. That peace seemed to be a part of it too. 

Christopher had known right then and there, when May came up with _The Love Definition_ , that his standards were going to be enormously high. The display in front of him only proved that. 

With that in mind, he tuned back into the conversation, where Dad was asking Papa who this Bierce guy was.

“The guy who wrote _The Devil’s Dictionary._ It was like...a satire. Like what Chris is reading right now.”

“How can you have a satirical dictionary?” he asked, now curious. Dictionaries were non-fiction, and satire was...not. Satire was using humor and irony to criticize vices of people, politics, society and governments, Christopher recited internally. 

Although, his English teacher liked to say, ‘Like all good fiction and all great lies, it starts with a fact.’ Probably not something she should’ve been teaching to a roomful of teenagers who were likely to take that sentence and run with it but it was what it was.

“Bierce was a soldier during the Civil War, and he was super cynical,” Buck explained, looking up at Dad with a cheeky smirk at the soldier part. “So he made all these definitions for common terms that were supposedly accurate for the early 1900's, and then published them into one book. _The Devil’s Dictionary_ was the complete compilation.”

Christopher and Dad exchanged a glance, the one they always did when Papa sprouted off obscure, random facts.

“What’s another definition, Papa?”

“Well...his definition of an envelope was a coffin for a letter.” 

Dad whistled low while Christopher laughed loudly at that. “That’s dark, Buck.”

“He was a soldier! Most of the definitions are definitely not PG-13!” Buck defended, leveling a warning look in Christopher’s direction. “So don’t go lookin’ for them.”

“I’m fourteen.” In his mind, that one year difference was more than enough reason to go looking for more definitions. What was the worst that could happen? 

He laughed at the deadpan look on Buck and Dad’s faces. Buck just shook his head at him and laid back down, linking his hands over his stomach and closing his eyes. 

“I mean, I was a soldier, and I’m _definitely_ not that dark. Or cynical,” his dad added, running a hand absently through Buck’s curls. 

“That’s because I’ve changed you for the better, Eds.” Papa’s reply was near instant, slurred as it was from the haze of sleep. Christopher snorted but watched as his father’s expression softened, looking down at his husband.

He glanced back down at the play in his hands, where the women obsessed with romance novels end up creating a fantasy life partner that was near impossible to live up to. Not that the play was meant to be a romance by any means, but from where he was sitting, he couldn’t help but compare it. 

Gwendolen had previously described her ideal partner being a man named Ernest, and even implied that if her love interest’s name hadn’t been Ernest, she probably wouldn’t have loved him. To Christopher, who watched his parents grow and fall in love with each other every day, it all seemed trivial. Love shouldn’t be conditional, shouldn’t be based on a simple name. 

He thought of the way Dad and Papa accepted each other in every form they could. Now that he was older, he was more aware of how people balked at the idea of second marriages, same-sex marriages and stepfathers (not that he’d really ever thought of Buck as his stepdad; he was Buck, plain and simple). Hell, his own grandparents had done it. He didn’t understand it, but he knew people said things.

He saw his parents accept each other’s uglier sides too, like the nightmares from the tours or rough calls, or each other’s insecurities. He saw them actively work to be better people, which in turn inspired _him_ to work past his own shortcomings. 

Christopher watched out of the corner of his eye as Dad ran a hand through Buck’s hair, having abandoned the puzzle to scroll through his phone. There was a tiny smile flitting across Papa’s face even in sleep, and Dad’s fingers kept moving through the messy curls 

They made a beautiful picture laying together like that, enough for his new photography hyper-fixation to kick into gear. But even as he watched them at peace, Christopher thought that maybe love wasn’t about just the pretty things people read about in novels - flowers and dates and candles and all that jazz. 

It was about finding someone who embraced all parts of you, the peace and contentment that came with not having to _hide_ from your significant other.

Papa let out a snort in his sleep, startling Christopher out of his thoughts. The surprisingly loud sound sent both him and Dad into a hushed fit of giggles as they exchanged amused looks. Christopher clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep from making noise. Dad tried his hardest not to move but he was laughing hard enough for Papa to wake up anyway.

“What’s goin’ on?” he yawned, moving to sit up. He blinked between them, one eyebrow lifting as Christopher's giggles spilled over.

Dad chuckled before pushing Papa down again. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“Mhmm…okay.” This time, he turned to bury his face into Dad’s stomach, wrapping his arms around him. He was asleep again almost immediately. Dad simply shook his head at Papa’s antics but slung his free arm around his husband’s shoulders, moving back to scroll through his phone.

Christopher was a little gobsmacked at how natural the entire thing looked, but he supposed that after six years of them being together, there really wasn’t another way.

Still, he filed the whole premise away in his mind.

Yeah, that was a part of love, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read _The Importance of Being Earnest_ in the ninth grade skajfkdalj xD I hope I made it clear enough, but honestly, fourteen-year-olds are weird about things.


	3. eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW:** mentions of drowning and implied child death, anxiety/triggers

Christopher banged his head against the table, frustrated with studying for the last part of his finals. 

He was finally graduating high school in 2 weeks, and no one was more excited than his dads for the ceremony. Naturally, the excitement extended to the rest of their fire family.

Harry had graduated two years ago, but Denny and Christopher were in the same grade, so they would be graduating at the same time. Luckily enough, Christopher’s graduation was a Saturday and Denny’s was a Sunday, so everyone could make it to both. They even had a huge joint party planned to celebrate.

Denny and Christopher had both managed admissions to Stanford, something that sent their family roaring up with pride and excitement. Denny wanted to major in business, but Chris was probably likely to go in undecided. He wasn’t sure yet; the only thing he knew was that he wanted to help people like him.

He perked up when he heard the door unlock. Grabbing his crutches, he slowly made his way outside to where Dad and Papa were coming in. 

He should’ve noticed something wrong right then and there.

Dad was periodically shooting Papa worried glances as the other man set his duffel bag down in the entrance way. Christopher watched quietly as Buck stripped off his jacket, still completely lost in thought. His face was tight, mouth pinched at the corners and he looked like he wasn't really seeing anything.

“Papa?” he spoke when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. Buck startled in place, but turned to him with a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey buddy! How’s the studying going?” He drew Christopher in for a hug like normal, but something about it was desperate; Buck was clinging a little too tight today. 

Dad watched the two of them worriedly as he hung up his own jacket, exhaustion clear on his face. Christopher tried to gauge what had happened over Papa’s shoulder, but his father simply shook his head.

“It’s going good. I’m ready to get it over with,” he confessed, trying to keep some semblance of normal. Dad snorted in the back, nodding in agreement.

“I remember that feeling. Passes by quicker than you think, though,” he said, looking fondly over at the large wedding picture that hung in their living room, right above the mantle that had pictures of Christopher and his mother. Dad and Papa were standing close together, with Chris between them, and all three of them were stuck in the middle of a laugh. 

When he’d seen it, he’d immediately told them that this was the photo they were going to frame. Both men had just shrugged and agreed.

Chris turned his attention back to his solemn-looking parents. They didn’t normally talk about the job at all at home - both firefighters preferring to leave it all at the station with their uniforms - but days like this were hard.

Christopher never really understood why. Sure, it must be nice not to bring those horrors home but on days like today, where else was one supposed to go if not to their family? 

It wasn’t until Papa walked to their room to freshen up that Dad brought it up. “We had a really rough call today. Two kids were playing by a pool, and one of them slipped and fell in. He didn’t make it.”

“How old was he?” Christopher asked quietly, already knowing where this was going. 

Dad hesitated before confirming his suspicions. “Eight.”

The same age Chris had been during the tsunami. 

It was always a blow to hear of his unbelievably strong Papa withering in on himself with the reminder of what happened ten years ago. Christopher had never blamed him for it, though, because Buck had done everything in his power to make up for the disaster of that day.

When Dad dropped Christopher off with Buck the day after the tsunami, they’d done so many fun things together. They’d built Lego buildings, colored pictures, had a movie day in a blanket fort, popped lots of popcorn and gorged on candy. 

Neither of them had been ready to leave the apartment, but Buck had gone upstairs and pulled out a brand new teddy bear for Christopher - one that was still in his room to this day. All ways of making the horrific experience somewhat manageable for both of them - even Dad wasn’t upset at coming back to both of them hyped on sugar. They'd ended up spending the night in Buck's apartment, replacing bad memories with good ones.

Chris couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed how much Papa still struggled with it. The loss of kids weighed hard on them, but on days like this, he almost felt like his dads couldn’t breathe through the stress of the job, though he knew they loved it. The unpredictable triggers only seemed to make it worse.

Now familiar with how Buck retracted into himself when he got too emotional, Christopher let it go for the time being. They ate dinner in a heavy silence covered by his and Dad’s idle chatter, with the occasional forced input from Papa.

After dinner was when Christopher started to pace in his room, as fast as he could. He stood on now-steadier legs sans crutches, staring down at them. It was obvious he had a muscle tone issue, but without the crutches, it seemed to be more of a coordination issue.

His hands never had been a problem for him; he had a greater motor coordination with them than other kids with cerebral palsy, even if his fingers hyper-extended sometimes, and trembled if he worked them too hard. His legs were another story altogether, and it’d been even more difficult when he’d hit his growth spurt, suddenly shooting up to taller than even Chimney and Aunt Hen. 

His legs had already been weaker than any other part of his body, and then his center of balance had completely shifted. His limbs had been gangly and he’d relied so much on crutches to get around while he tried to grow into it, tried to make his scissor gait a lot less prominent. 

It was frustrating for everyone around him because all Christopher could seem to do was snap at his body’s disability to do its job, and take that anger out on everyone around him.

Even now, even though his gait had improved somewhat, it was difficult.

When it got too hard, he remembered his dad’s words after he’d fallen off the skateboard.

_“There are things in life that you’re not gonna be able to do. And there’s other stuff that you are gonna be able to do, but it’s gonna be a lot harder than it is for the other kids because you have CP.”_

_“You tried something and it didn’t work out. Maybe next time it does.”_

_“I don’t want you to ever stop trying.”_

Back then, he hadn’t understood how hard that particular conversation was for his dad to have with him, because Christopher had always had an independent streak that rivaled most kids. Perhaps it was a drive to prove that he was more than his CP, but whatever it was, in retrospect, it made for very difficult situations.

Christopher remembered those words in particular because they’d strengthened his resolve instead of weakening it. He still struggled to ask for help outside his family, but through Papa and Dad’s faith in him, he’d gotten to a place where he was comfortable enough to even live on his own, if he so wished.

He imagined that coming to terms with the tsunami was like that for Papa, too. They didn’t talk about it much, preferring to avoid all the yearly television recaps. Chris knew his papa occasionally had nightmares about it, but he had Dad there when he woke up gasping for breath.

What he hadn’t realized was that the only person who could truly pull Papa out of those waves was _him_.

In the ten years since the tsunami, they hadn’t talked in detail about what had happened when Buck and Christopher got separated, hadn’t talked about the fact that Christopher didn’t blame him at all for it. There had been plenty of reassurance for both of them, but never an explicit talk.

Maybe it was one of those things they needed to try together.

Resolve set, he made his way to his parents’ room. He could hear the hushed sounds of Dad speaking to him, and could already imagine him running comforting fingers through Papa’s hair with one hand while the other smoothed up and down his body.

He hated to interrupt their private moment, where Papa was curled so unbelievably small against Dad, seeking comfort as red-rimmed eyes stared unseeingly outside the window where rain pounded against the sill. Papa’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see Christopher standing there.

He used the door jambs to walk into the room, keeping himself silent as he caught his Dad’s eye, gesturing to him in a familiar motion.

His dad nodded and got up, just as easy as that. Papa made an anguished sound in his throat at the separation before Dad leaned down, whispering to him in a familiar mix of what Chris recognized to be broken Spanish and English. He nodded to whatever his husband said, staying folded into a ball.

The crease between Dad’s eyebrows only deepened as he walked around the bed, but he ruffled his hair before leaving the room, a thankful and supportive lilt to his body language.

“Bucky?” He said quietly. He hadn’t used the nickname in a while, but it was a source of comfort for him, just like saying ‘Daddy’ was. It reminded him of the earlier days, when he wasn’t eighteen and didn’t have exams looming over him.

“Chris? Hey, bud.” Papa moved himself into a sitting position, eyes tired, the same forced smile on his face. Christopher studied him for a second, recognizing how many times his parents made sure that he didn’t catch wind of them struggling with their demons. They’d never hidden anything when he outright asked, but Christopher knew that they didn’t like to make him worry.

“It was the tsunami, wasn’t it.” He cut through all preface as he made his way around the bed to the empty side. Having gotten his dad’s height, even through his cerebral palsy, meant that at 5’10”, he usually didn’t need help getting onto things like beds and chairs. Still, he held his hand out for his Papa, knowing that he needed a little comfort of helping today; the illusion of Christopher still being small enough to ask and receive the type of coddling care that teenagers hated.

“Yeah,” Buck admitted. Christopher scooted next to him, and curled up against his body like he had as a child, multiple times. Even now, he could feel some of his tension fade from studying, just for being with one of the most important people in his life.

He thought back to the havoc the tsunami wrecked on their lives. 

Personally, there wasn’t much Christopher remembered about the event now. He got overwhelming flashes of water at times, and it was maybe once or twice every six months that he’d have a nightmare about it. There would be days he couldn’t go swimming with the other kids, but for the most part, it was fine.

At the beginning, it hadn’t been like that. He and Buck had taken forever to learn to stand water again. Christopher had flat-out refused to take showers without either Buck or Daddy with him in it, uncaring about how irrational his request could have been. Yet, they’d been patient with him, but especially Buck - even through his own aquaphobia.

Christopher remembered the first shower he and Buck had taken together, after a full tantrum about wanting only his Bucky with him. Buck had asked Dad to stay in the bathroom with them while the two of them stripped down to try to step under the spray. Christopher remembered seeing his encouraging face, too tight to be completely real, as he said “me and you, we make a great team” with all the false bravado he could muster.

It had been those words that had gotten both of them into the spray together, and Christopher out of it. He vaguely remembered his dad pulling him out of the shower to dry him off, and then going back for Buck, whispering words of comfort the whole way to the spooked man who was frozen under the spray.

That’s when he realized just how much Buck loved him.

Then, there’d been them getting used to pools, rain, lakes and the beach. They’d spent _months_ trying to re-learn how to enjoy those things again, Buck especially so he could do his job. 

Dad took them to beaches multiple times; the first few times, both of them completely refused to step out of the car, but Dad was patient with both of them. It took the sixth time before they even climbed down from the truck. 

Pools were different; they were human-controlled and no unpredictable wave was going to trap them under. Buck and Christopher had wadded in carefully, Dad holding a hand out to both of them from inside the pool. 

Of all things, rain ended up being their favourite thing. They’d go onto the back porch and curl up together on a pile of blankets, listening to the comforting rhythm of the water on the roof. It became a thing of theirs, to go outside. The smell of the earth after it rained became one of Christopher’s comfort smells.

After a year or two, the tsunami for Christopher was a thing of the past, enough that he’d apparently told his classmates that tsunamis weren’t a big deal. The full sentence was that they weren’t a big deal _when you had Buck_ , but his fourth-grade teacher still hadn’t been happy about it. 

Still, he supposed it was like one of those things that people said; kids were resilient. But Buck hadn’t been a kid; he remembered every excruciating detail of the day. Now, looking at his pained eyes, Christopher realized that Buck was still standing at Saint Monica’s Pier, stuck ten years in the past. They had made undeniable progress with themselves but somewhere, Buck still felt responsible for losing him that day.

“You saved me, and you saved them, Bucky,” he repeated his words from then, pressing closer to him.

Even nearing his forties, Papa was just the same as he had been eleven years ago, sitting in that old Jeep of his. There were more laugh lines on his face now and Dad liked to tease that he had a few silver strands in his dark blond hair, but other than that, Buck was still the same familiar presence that had protected him from the waves without a second thought.

“I’m sorry I let you get separated from me that day,” Papa whispered against his head, clutching him tightly. The words were familiar.

“You know, if someone else hadn’t saved that woman that day, she probably wouldn’t have been so inclined to keep me with her.” It was a realization he’d made terms with three years ago, during one of those remembrance programs. There was now a dedicated memorial near Saint Monica’s Pier, for all the lives lost to the sea.

Christopher had asked Dad and Buck to take him there, more out of curiosity than anything else. He’d been prepared for them to say no, or to have only Dad take him but surprisingly enough, Buck had been the first to say yes. He’d held onto Dad’s hand tightly the entire time, but he’d come. 

There had been an older teenage-looking girl who’d been sitting at the memorial, looking at the cards and flowers people still left for those lives. 

Christopher shouldn’t have noticed her, but she’d come up to him during the moment alone he’d asked his dads for. Initially, he’d been slightly annoyed at the interruption but then she’d pointed towards Buck and told him that she had something for him. 

Back then, the Diaz family had come home to have the same conversation. Except for these two details that Christopher was now sharing.

“What do you mean?” For this one conversation, he’d look his papa in the eye.

“Another firefighter saved her and directed her to a safe place and that’s where she found me. When she heard that you were a firefighter, she promised to help me find you. That lady, she was really nice, but she was fighting for her own life too. Carrying an eight-year-old kid with CP wasn’t on her agenda. Anyone else would’ve gotten tired of it, but she carried me and helped me look for you all the way until we found you and Daddy.

“Bucky, the reason that I’m not even more traumatized by the tsunami is because of you. And yeah, to some extent, to Gabriella, who reunited me with you and Daddy. But you saved me that day, and a thousand other times since then.” 

His papa just stared at him with wide eyes brimming with tears, his arms growing tighter around him. “I watched you fight your own fear of water so many times after the tsunami, just so I wouldn’t grow up not wanting to swim or anything like that. And your words that day on the pier were the only thing that cemented itself in my mind from the tsunami. Actually, I want to show you something.” 

He grabbed his phone and scrolled to a familiar video, passing it to Buck. There was no sound to it, but Chris had watched it enough times, had remembered it enough to know exactly what was being said.

That girl happened to have flown a drone over the pier that day. She’d been sitting a few paces away, mindlessly talking to the sketch artist but her drone had been recording the pier-goers, of which Buck and Christopher were right in the center.

_“There aren’t many happy memories from that day, but I hope this one could serve as one of yours.” Chris looked at the USB in her hand skeptically. It wasn’t every day that someone just came up to someone with a recording of you._

_“I know it’s weird, but I’ve been coming here pretty often, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of anyone who was in the video. I saw your friend over there, and recognized him. Take this - a reminder that a bad ending doesn’t negate the happiness of the day.”_

_Then he looked closer at the exhaustion that lurked around her. He didn’t know what had made her so sad, or what memories the tsunami brought back for her, but he knew that whatever she’d given would help._

_“Thank you” was all he had to muster as he closed a hand around the USB, slipping it into his pocket._

The video had shown Buck and Christopher’s conversations about the future, right in the middle of Buck’s not being able to go back to work. Chris smiled at the sight of Buck’s hand fisted in the back of his shirt so he didn’t fall. It had been his instinct from day one.

“You asked me what I wanted to do and I listed three things that I _can’t_ do, no matter how much I try,” Christopher chuckled in good humor, but Buck clearly didn’t think it was funny because he went to protest immediately. He only rolled his eyes and pushed his father back down. “See? The protective instinct doesn’t go. Even that day, you didn’t even flinch when I told you that. 

“My point is that you saved a lot of people that day, including me, Bucky. I know that some calls trigger you and Dad but this is different. This is...there’s a larger part of you that _won’t_ forgive yourself for the tsunami, a part that refuses to.”

He knew he hit the nail right on the head when Buck flinched. 

For a second, Chris wondered if he’d gone too far, but then Papa sat up and wiped his face before confessing. “I can’t unsee it. There’s no part of me that’s forgotten the agony of not knowing where you were, the sheer terror that coursed through me when I’d realized that you’d fallen off the truck, or...or how it felt to stand in front of Eddie, to look him in the eye and tell him…” 

Papa cut himself off, but Christopher already knew what he was going to say.

“Even then, I didn’t blame you.” Daddy’s voice came from the door, holding two bottles of water. His eyes were slightly teary and apologetic for interrupting their discussion, but Chris only shook his head, taking the offered bottle. “I was scared, terrified, and my world shattered for those few seconds but not a single part of me blamed you. Not for a second.”

“God, Eddie, I swear…” Buck reached out for him, Dad immediately slipping into the bed with them.

“I know you tried, and I know that if I hadn’t shown up when I did, you would’ve gone straight back out there to look for him. You did great, Evan, you kept our son safe. You did everything you could, my love.” 

The words sounded like they’d been repeated multiple times through the years, but Dad hadn’t gotten tired of reminding Papa of the fact. It only made Chris realize how much he hadn’t noticed Buck’s suffering.

“Bucky, you have to forgive yourself for it. Nothing that happened was your fault, at all.”

Chris and Dad had him sandwiched between them by now, watching as the words finally sunk in.

“Thank you,” Buck whispered at him.

“You’re going to be okay, kid,” Chris said, feeling like he would probably cry too, more out of relief than anything else.

It would take a while to work through all the knots the tsunami had tied Papa up in, but this was the first step into an even better direction.

He spent a few more minutes curled up against Buck, just ruminating over the night in silence. There wasn’t much else to say. Dad picked up the phone where the video was still playing on repeat, looking at them questioningly. Chris explained it again, his father leaning forward to hold them to him tightly.

Once he felt his papa was okay, Christopher kissed his cheek and hugged him and Dad one more time before making his way back to his room. 

The sounds of his dads talking in muffled whispers followed him back. 

Crawling into his own bed, he thought about his Dad and Papa again, and how in love they still were. Even after eight years of marriage, it seemed that nothing had changed at all, only them becoming more open and free with their family.

He thought of Dad’s tight expression as they’d walked in, the periodic glances of worry shot Papa’s way. Then there was the image of Buck seeking comfort from his husband, trying to make himself impossibly small, unafraid of being judged because he was in the arms of the man he loved, the man who loved him. The sound of protest he’d made when Dad had gotten up, reaching out to him for instant reassurance.

Then there were the endless reminders and kind words Dad extended Papa’s way, making sure he knew that he was loved, easing all the insecurities that plagued him over and over again.

Those were all things he could add to _The Love Definition_ \- just another set of things to look for in a perfect partner. Not for the first time, he thought again that his dads had something special, something he wanted for himself. Someone that looked past the things he struggled with, actively helped him get past it. Someone who saw him for _him_.

If what Daddy and Bucky had was the resulting fruit of patience, Christopher would gladly wait as long as he needed to.

It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Chris grows up, I tried to stick to keeping his descriptions of CP as accurate as possible to people with spastic diplegic cerebral palsy, which is what seems like Chris has. 
> 
> He has a milder form, going off of his portrayal in the show. He's a lot more mobile and his intellectual and language skills are mostly unaffected at age 9. With physical and speech therapies, cerebral palsy patients usually only improve their mobility/language as life goes on.
> 
> I hope that I remained as close as possible, but if I haven't, please don't hesitate in DM'ing me to let me know!


	4. twenty-two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to all my wonderful Tumblr mutuals who made this rough week a little better <3
> 
> I'm so excited for this chapter, and even more for the next ;)

Four years found Christopher close to graduating again, only college this time.

He was home for the spring break, having just submitted his senior thesis and mostly spending time with his family. He’d gone out with May, who was now married with a child on the way. He’d seen Harry, a few other friends from school, visited Nia at his Aunts’ house, and met with the rest of the fire family. 

The six hour difference between LA and Stanford University where Denny and Chris shared a small on-campus apartment proved to be an exercise in control for their parents. There had been multiple times where one of the parents was more than ready to drive up to take them home for the weekend. _Every_ weekend.

Denny had drawn the line there with them, stating that they had to let them do this on their own, and that they’d be home for breaks and longer weekends. Chris had merely shrugged in agreement.

They made it work. Having Denny there made it easier with his CP, in case he needed anything, and he got the sense that Dad and Papa were a little more at ease with him there. In turn, Denny had the kinship of home, too. Though Aunt Athena liked to joke that both of them were wreaking havoc on campus, a force to be reckoned with when they put their minds together.

She was probably right.

He’d ultimately decided to major in public policy, wanting to make a difference to people that were stuck in the system the way his dad had been when they’d moved out here. If not for Carla, God knows where they would’ve been. Even though she wasn’t their home healthcare aide anymore, she was still - and always would be - family.

In fact, Carla had formed a large part of Christopher’s decision on his major. He’d tried social work, human relations, political science and even criminal justice before he found his fit with public policy. With that degree, he’d be able to do so much to help other people like him.

Now just a little over a month left in graduating with his Bachelor’s, Christopher couldn’t be happier with the way things worked out. His parents were happy to have him home too, shining a little brighter than he’d seen them over all the video calls.

And now, he was sitting in a coffee shop with his best friend of six years, watching her stir her tea as his mouth flopped open.

This was literally his greatest dream and worst nightmare rolled into one.

“Look, Chris. I really don’t see what the problem is. We’ve known each other for so long, why not try the next step? And it’s not like it’s a baseless thought. We’ve been skirting around each other for years, _meri jaan_. Now we’re about to graduate and…” Anabiya said, trailing off. 

The blanks could be filled. Graduating meant that they could drift apart. Graduating meant that Anabiya was moving to New York for an internship, and Chris was starting a job in LA. 

Graduating meant that they both could regret not giving each other a chance.

Christopher’s mind stuck on the term of endearment. _Meri jaan_ meant ‘my life’ in Urdu, courtesy of Anabiya’s Pakistani household. Usually, she said it plainly, the way people said ‘dude’ or ‘man’ or ‘bro.’ Today though, there was a softness to the words that rivalled his dad’s _mi vida_ to Buck.

He’d been in love with her for the past three years, and hadn’t dared to say anything. Christopher was terrified of so many things when it came to Anabiya, but he’d always loved her freely. 

He just hadn’t imagined that she’d love him back. That possibility hadn’t even been on the radar; he wasn’t quite sure how they ended up here.

“But...I don’t understand. Why now? Of all times, why’d you bring it up now?” Right at the brink of their lives changing yet again.

Anabiya shrugged, wrapping her fingers around her mug. To anyone else, she’d look calm, composed. But Christopher knew her. He could pick up the tenseness in her shoulders, the pinched nervousness on her face and the slight tremble in her fingers. 

“Because every time I thought you would say something, you’d chicken out. And eventually, I got tired of waiting. Took it in my own hands, as usual.” She looked pointedly at him, making his face burn. 

“It’s not...it’s not that simple. It never really is. There’s just...you really want to be saddled to a guy with cerebral palsy for the rest of your life? Because the second I say yes, Biya, I’m not going to be able to let you go.”

It was as close to an ‘I love you’ as he could say without actually mentioning the words. By the way her eyes softened, she knew it too. 

If he said the words, it would make this all too real.

Her hair fell over her face as she stared down into her mug, before looking up at him steadily. “Your CP has never been something I’ve discriminated against and you know that. If anything, it only makes me admire you that much more. I would call myself lucky to be with you, Chris. It’s not ‘saddling’ or being stuck.” His heart squeezed but he knew that saying it and dealing with it were two very different things. 

He said as much. “You’ve seen how hard it is from the surface, but I don’t think you realize how hard it is. All the physical therapy appointments, the speech therapy, the mood swings, the inability to do so many things. It’s like...well, saddling yourself to an overgrown child. No one wants to be stuck with that for a life partner.”

“Why do you keep talking about yourself like that?” Biya snapped. “You’re literally the most independent person I know, and your CP doesn’t change that. And even if you weren’t, I’d still feel the same way about you. Yeah, things take more work and there are obstacles and we might have to do things differently but in the end, it will _never_ change the way I feel about you.”

“But it changes the way _I_ feel _about_ what I feel for you! I feel selfish for even _entertaining_ the mere idea of subjecting you to this for life. I don’t want that for you. You deserve someone who can give you everything. Someone who’s whole.” He struggled to keep his voice at a normal volume, because they were already catching a few side-eyes.

“You already give me everything, and _I’ll_ be the one to decide what I want. You _are_ whole, Christopher Diaz. You know better than anyone that a disability doesn’t make someone broken, and you wouldn’t talk to _anyone_ else like that, so you shouldn’t be talking about yourself like that either. And I’m not about to sit here and justify why I love you. Neither of us deserve that.” 

Christopher held back a flinch at the three words, the same letters that were tangling themselves in his throat, eager to present themselves to her.

Nevertheless, he pushed it down. 

“Biya, I…I can’t do it.” There was the heavy weight of dread digging into his chest as he watched a myriad of emotions flash across Anabiya’s face, but it was the pure hurt that scoured into him most.

The disappointment was clear on her face as she stood up, shaking her head. “Think about it. You know where to find me if you make a decision,” Anabiya muttered before setting a few bills down. Chris tried to push her off, citing he’d pay for it but with one withering glare, he backed off. 

Before she left, Anabiya left him with one scalding comment. “Don’t do something that will leave us both with a world of regret, Christopher.”

He sat there for a long while, watching her tunic sway around her as she went out to her car. His chest felt tight as she walked away, mind racing around their conversation. He didn't think things would come to a head like this.

Before he knew it, he’d pulled his phone and dialled his dad’s number. 

“Hello?”

“Do you mind coming up to that coffee shop near City Square?” 

There was a beat of silence before Dad replied in the affirmative, saying he’d be there in 10 minutes. Christopher flagged down a waitress and ordered his regular Americano for him.

As the kind woman walked back to the counter, Chris stared at his crutches leaning precariously on the side of the table. He’d gone through an alarming amount of those; right now, they were a glossy black decorated with a Stanford sticker that Anabiya herself had put on the side. 

How could he subject Anabiya to all of that? For life?

He was honest about not being able to let her go. But every time he let himself even _entertain_ the mere idea of them being together in the romantic sense, a swamping wave of self-doubt and selfishness strangled him.

His CP meant that there were a lot of dark days to work through. Some days he’d wake up and his limbs would refuse to cooperate, whereas on other days he wouldn’t have the energy to do anything at all. Those were the days his temper sky-rocketed and he was an all-round terror to be around, if he managed to get out in the first place. 

For all of his usual patience, he wasn’t perfect.

“What’s going on?” His dad slipped into the seat next to him, taking in the empty cup, the wad of money, Christopher’s still-full coffee and the expression on his face. “Are you okay, buddy?” 

Christopher just stared at the worried face that was so like his own. He’d gotten a mix of his mom’s and his dad’s eyes, but the rest of his facial structure was all Dad’s. And Dad liked to joke that his personality and hair came from Buck. 

Buck, on the other hand, thought that his quiet personality came from Dad. Which was true - he was, in Anabiya’s terms, an ambivert; the perfect mix of Mom, Dad and Papa.

“Dad, do you think I should love someone?” The question took his father by surprise, his eyebrows shooting up in question.

“Yeah, you should, and you deserve to.” The answer was immediate, backed with conviction. “What brought this on, kiddo?”

Chris told him about what Anabiya said, in its bare minimum. Dad sat in thought for a while, smiling briefly at the waitress who brought his coffee.

“You’ve loved her for a while, Chris, haven’t you?” 

“Well, yeah but…”

His father cocked his head as Christopher trailed off. “Then that should be the end of it. She loves you, you love her, what else is there to think about? Is something bothering you, bud?”

“She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by my CP.” Dad’s eyes softened and a strange look took up residence on his face. It was the same look Dad always got when Christopher fell back from doing something.

“Is that what this is about? You don’t think you should love her because you have CP?”

Christopher was quick to correct him. “No, it’s that _she_ shouldn’t love _me_ . You and Buck already know how difficult this is, and you’re my _dads_. I don’t know if I can subject a life partner to all that. I feel so selfish for even thinking about it.”

His dad studied him quietly, with the same look Anabiya said Chris got when he was concentrating. “You know, and I know this isn’t the same, but when I first realized that I liked Buck, I thought the exact same thing.” 

This was a story he hadn’t heard before. He’d just assumed that because they loved each other so much, nothing could keep them apart. His surprise must’ve shown on his face because Dad smiled at him, even as his eyes glazed over, rolling his wedding ring between his fingers.

“See, when I realized just how important your papa was to me, I also recognized that I was an army veteran who suffered from terrible PTSD. On top of that, I was a single father, I was dealing with things with your mom _and_ I was five years older than he was. Add in the fact that I was - and still am - pretty difficult when it comes to emotions, and you’ve got yourself a pretty poor candidate.

“I just kept thinking to myself that Buck could find someone so much better than me, someone younger, less damaged and more fun to be around. Kept thinking that no one wanted all that baggage.” 

“Papa would never say that to you.”

Dad only raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh I know that. The second he saw you on my phone, Buck melted immediately. He stepped right into my life, and didn’t budge, no matter what came at us. But it took a lot of time, Chris. Didn’t happen overnight. Two years of non-stop partnership in and out of the house to the point where I just started accepting that the man wasn’t going anywhere. He was already so integral to our lives. 

“And Buck was struggling with his own baggage too, it wasn’t that he came into this relationship with a clean slate. Those are his stories to tell, but my point is that we _all_ struggle with things. Anabiya must have something that tears at her too, right?” Chris nodded vaguely. “Would you love her any less for it?”

He immediately shook his head; he couldn’t even fathom it. He began to see where Dad was taking this. 

Dad only grinned knowingly as he continued. “There is not a single person who comes into a relationship without a worry in the world. My trauma didn’t mean that I didn’t deserve him, or that he couldn’t love me and vice versa.

“It took us some time to accept that but we love each other enough to make it work. Even after 13 years of being together, and 12 years of being married, Buck and I are still working through those things, but the difference is that we do it _together_. We choose each other, every single time.” 

“How did you know you loved Buck differently than you loved Mom?” Dad flinched at the reminder, which made Christopher slightly regret the question. “You did. What you and Buck have is something different.”

In all these years, Dad had never shied away from Christopher’s questions about his mother. Papa was often listening and questioning right along too, never put-off by the mention of her. It made Christopher think about how non-traditional his family was, where Buck wasn’t insecure about Mom being mentioned. Together, the three of them kept her alive, part of their family.

But this was something that’d settled in his mind early into Dad and Buck’s relationship - not in a negative way, but enough that he could see the difference.

“I didn’t think you would’ve noticed that,” Dad confessed, fiddling with the rim of the mug. “It took _me_ a long time to come to terms with it. Your mom and I...I loved her, I _still_ love her. But we weren’t _in_ love with each other. Shannon and I ended up getting married on a whim, then got pregnant with you and never really looked back. But we were so young, and in a pretty unstable place.

“I made a lot of mistakes back then. The list is a mile long, and I know you know most of them. Shannon and I built a marriage on rocky ground, but eventually, it crumbled because neither of us was willing to understand each other. We couldn’t make it work, no matter how much we tried. Couldn’t put it back together.

“The difference with Buck is that he’s my best friend before anything else. Before my husband, before the father of my kid, he’s my best friend, my partner. My soulmate - that’s what makes us work.

“I’m not saying you have to marry your best friend or whatever, but...at one point, your partner needs to be someone who understands you, even if it takes a while to get there. Someone who accepts you for _all_ parts of you. And they have to be willing to adapt to inevitable changes even if they don’t always like them. Buck and I aren’t the same people we married 12 years ago; we get to know each other every day, all over again, and that’s part of the fun, too.

“I can’t tell you what to tell Anabiya, and I’m not going to force your hand in anything. Your papa and I will always support any decision you take. But Chris, if you hadn’t given me that push that night, I’d have regretted it for the rest of my life. Maybe it’s time for me to return the favour,” he finished, giving him a knowing look.

Chris thought about Dad and Papa again. It _had_ been a long ride for them; their relationship hadn’t snapped into place overnight. No matter how much they tried to keep it as normal as possible, it had been an adjustment for all of them. 

But they had love between them, which kept them going. 

Biya and him had a full six years between them, and just because their situation was a little different didn’t mean they couldn’t get through it. His CP was a part of his identity, not a flaw or a setback, and Biya had taken it in stride from the very first day.

And he’d just doubted her.

“I’m an idiot,” Christopher declared as the words sunk in. His dad only laughed and drained the rest of his coffee.

“Diaz men suck when it comes to feelings. Thank God you didn’t get that from the rest of us, kid.” 

“I just pissed my best friend off because I wouldn’t talk about what I was feeling. I’d say I suck too,” he quipped as he got to his feet, slipping his arms through his forearm crutches. His dad clicked his tongue in protest.

“Not true, buddy, I think you said some pretty vulnerable things, too. But anyway, as long as you remember it’s you two versus the argument, you’re gonna be just fine. You know how many times Buck and I’ve pissed each other off through the years? And that’s before we even got together.”

Chris rolled his eyes, well-familiar with this particular premise. Yet another love definition.

“Yeah, yeah, you two win at everything,” he grumbled good-naturedly as they walked out, Anabiya’s wad of cash nestled in his pocket. 

His dad laughed at that, ruffling his hair.

“Come on, I’ll drop you off at her house,” Dad gestured to his truck, saving Chris the trouble of having to grab a cab. He didn’t prefer driving, not when his eyes had a tendency to slip closed at random moments - though he could if he needed or wanted to.

“Haven’t you met your advice quota for the day, old man?” he teased as his father pulled out onto the street. Dad laughed and mock-scolded him for the ‘old’ comment.

“Watch it kid, I’m not even fifty yet.”

The rest of the car ride passed in relative silence, Christopher trying to predict how Anabiya would react to him on her doorstep less than an hour after she stormed out of the coffee shop. 

He had no idea what he was going to say to her.

“The truth,” Dad advised. Christopher realized he’d said the last sentence out loud and looked sheepishly at him. “You’ve got this. Go get her.”

“I love you, Dad. Thank you,” Chris hugged him first, holding onto the familiar scent of pine and ash that he forever associated with him. Buck was more sandalwood and cedar, but both were equally comforting.

“Love you too.” Dad ruffled his hair again, smiling encouragingly.

Chris crutched his way to Anabiya’s front door, a ball of nervousness settling in his gut. He made sure his dad’s truck was gone before knocking.

The door swung open to reveal Warda, Anabiya’s older sister. She narrowed his eyes at him as he looked at her apologetically.

“What is it?” Crap. She was pissed.

Though Chris would be too if someone had acted the way he had.

“Hi, Warda. Is Biya here?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think right now is a good time. You really hurt her, Christopher.” The words were sharp, designed to dig into him. He flinched but kept his head up.

“I know. I need to talk to her though. I need to fix this.”

Whatever Warda read on his face must’ve been enough to earn partial forgiveness, because she stepped aside, letting him in.

“It’s about your CP, isn’t it?” she asked softly. A flush of shame travelled up his chest. It was one thing for Anabiya to see through him, another thing entirely for anyone else to. Still, there was no trace of judgment in her voice, which eased Christopher slightly.

“I can’t give her everything she deserves.”

“Maybe she just needs you. You two just fit together. CP doesn’t make you any less worthy of happiness, Christopher.” Warda was kind about it, though there was still some trepidation in her voice for having hurt her younger sister.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to understand that. Thanks,” he mustered, not wanting to hash this out with Anabiya’s sister rather than Biya herself. Then he winced at his offhand tone, trying to soften his voice. “I’m sorry. Can I talk to her?”

Warda studied him for a minute before gesturing upstairs. “She’s in her bedroom.”

Christopher shifted on his heels and slowly made his way up the stairs. He was halfway before Warda called out to him.

“If you hurt her again, I’m not going to hesitate in kicking you out of here.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Chris said quickly, praying under his breath that he could fix this.

It took him a while to climb with his crutches, but he managed it. By the time he’d reached the top, he was winded with the effort and there were tremors in his muscles.

He knocked on the door, barely hearing Biya’s tearful “go away, _Aapi!”_

“It’s me,” Chris said, rapping his knuckles lightly over the wood. There was a beat of silence before the door swung open, revealing a blotchy-faced Anabiya. It was clear that she’d tried to hastily wipe her face.

His heart turned over in his chest as another wave of self-loathing gripped him. 

“Sit,” she gestured shortly. Chris lowered himself to her bed, nearly tripping because he was too busy studying her expression to pay attention to his weak muscles. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she was studiously avoiding looking at him.

They sat in an awkward silence that hadn’t plagued them _ever_ in their friendship. It was startling, and for one horrifying second, Christopher wondered if he could fix this at all.

No, that wasn’t even a question. He’d do anything for this.

He dug out the few bills and held them out to her, almost like a peace offering. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, but took them, albeit reluctantly. 

“Biya, I’m sorry,” Christopher started, twisting his fingers together. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, shouldn’t have doubted our relationship.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Biya whispered stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. Chris swallowed around the lump in his throat as his dad’s words came back to him.

_“The truth.”_

He took a deep breath and started speaking. “When I come back from physical therapy some days, I throw up because the pain causes me so much nausea. And then that makes me cranky, and just horrible company. 

“When I go to places without accessibility for people with disabilities or very limited accessibility, it sends me into a fit of rage because things _should_ be more accessible. When I go to job interviews, or classes, or internships, or anywhere really, I have to deal with all this-this pity that comes my way.

“They see a guy on crutches, with a clear disorder, and suddenly, I’m not a person anymore.” Christopher said quietly, now looking down at his hands. This was where his real insecurity with his cerebral palsy lay - people didn’t tend to look past it.

“Biya, as much as I’ve learned to embrace my disability, there are more times than not where it just frustrates the hell out of me and everyone around me.” She was listening quietly, her gaze on the top of his head burning through him. “There are days where my speech messes up and I start stammering or end up speaking too loud. There are days where my body just _doesn’t_ work the way it should, even with more than 15 years of physical therapy. My CP is usually limited to physical disabilities but sometimes, there are mental and cognitive problems too.

“We’ve been best friends for years. I couldn’t have hid this from you forever, and I know you know some of it because you’ve been with me through it. But it’s different when you’re my life partner. I promise I didn’t mean to push you away, I just don’t see why you’d love a guy like me.”

“Because you don’t see what I see,” Anabiya said earnestly, some of the fire easing from her voice. “All these things that you see as struggles are also proof of your values. Things that make you, _you_. And I couldn’t love you the same without it. There isn’t anything I’d change about you, ever, and if I’m hurt, it’s because of how quick it was for you to say no, not because I don’t understand where you’re coming from.”

“My dads are constantly having to switch up things as they come to accommodate me, to keep me in the loop. So do my friends, which you know,” he said, now looking right at her. “I can’t promise you a normal life. I can’t promise that people won’t look at you weird and wonder what you’re doing with the handicapped guy.”

“You’re not abnormal, first of all, and the premise of ‘normal’ is subjective anyway,” she corrected quickly. “The world isn’t just about being able-bodied. I...I don’t promise to understand what you go through, because all I can offer you are love and support. But I want to be there, Chris.”

“That’s all I ask. Just...just be patient with me.” He was out of words now, still breathless from those stairs. Or maybe it was from feeling so unnervingly vulnerable and exposed. 

Anabiya finally abandoned her post by the door to come sit by him. Christopher held up one hand to her, looking up hopefully. When she laced her fingers with his, he let out a breath of relief, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Christopher cupped her face with his free hand, running a thumb to clear a smudge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered pleadingly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Biya was still red-faced and flushed from crying, and tears were sparkling in her eyes again but she was the most beautiful thing Chris had ever seen. "Just...don't do that again. I'm there, no matter what."

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips were meeting in an awkward kiss that left both of them bumbling and flustered. It was dry and chaste, but as first kisses go, it wasn’t bad. So he kissed her again, a little more confident this time around, cupping the back of her head. 

"I won't," he whispered when they parted for air.

“So...where do we go from here?” Biya asked.

“We...try to make this work. I told you, I’m not gonna be able to let you go, and if that means we do the long distance thing, then so be it.”

“It _also_ means that we have to learn to communicate better. Especially if we want to do the long distance relationship after only what would be maybe two months of regular dating.” Chris winced at her pointed look but nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what Dad said too.”

“Ah... _The Love Definition_ again?” Anabiya quirked dryly, a grin taking hold on her face. Chris laughed and nodded, turning more towards her.

“Honestly, when you left the cafe, there wasn’t really anyone else on my mind because I knew he would understand. When Dad came back from the army, Mom wasn’t...she wasn’t easy on him.” Anabiya had been around their family long enough for her to know these things. “That’s not to say that Dad was completely blameless or whatever. He just never tells me about anything Mom did wrong, but that doesn't mean I didn't see it.

“Obviously, I was born with the CP, so I had a lifetime to adjust but veterans see things that don’t fit in the average civilian’s view. Even now, there are some habits that don’t leave Dad, nightmares that plague him.

“They were fighting more, actually talking less and no one was willing to give my dad the space to become a civilian again - not even his parents. All everyone saw was either the medal, or the fact that he’d left his wife and son to enlist,” Chris shrugged. “I was just glad that he was home safe.”

He’d heard Dad’s parents yell at him over and over again about taking Chris to LA, about marrying Buck, about a thousand different things in his life. Yet, he was as patient as he could be, trying his hardest to keep their family tied together. To Chris, that was the sign of a growth he learned from his dad.

“Buck doesn’t do that,” Chris told her. “He’s always encouraging Dad to get help, to talk about things, lets him have his space if that’s what he needs. Buck never sees Dad’s trauma as a burden, and vice versa. I knew Dad would understand this, and it was his day off, so I called him.”

“Your dads are some of the best people I’ve ever known, and they have one of the best relationships I’ve ever seen. I’m glad we have that model in front of us,” she said.

That had been the point of _The Love Definition_ \- a specific list of lessons and standards about love and relationships, almost like a guide. Now presented with his own challenge, he’d need those lessons more than ever.

“Every couple goes through things, I think. Not a lot of them come back to talk it out. I don't want that to happen to us,” Chris told her. Biya chuckled and stood up, propping her hands on her hips.

“It's not going to,” she pointed at him sternly, a smirk playing at her lips. Some of the lingering tightness vanished at her determination - whatever it was, they'd get through it.

“We’re going to try our best not to,” he corrected, reaching for his crutches. “I’m going to get going because I think Dad’s probably driving himself out of his mind with worry, and probably freaking Papa out, too. But...would you want to...maybe go out Friday night? On a date?”

Anabiya’s expression softened and she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Friday.”

To his relief, the awkwardness had dissipated, leaving nothing but the burning anticipation of what there was to come. 

As Anabiya pulled him in for one last kiss, Chris promised himself that he’d never let her go. 

No matter how difficult things got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the insecurities Chris brings up are all ones from real patients, interviews and articles that I've read in my research. I hope I was accurate in my portrayal, but if not, please don't hesitate to let me know! <3
> 
> Warda is a very real person, she's my best friend who also named Anabiya, which means "Gate of Heaven."


	5. twenty-four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay! this is angst! we been knew! 
> 
> there are like...2-3 swear words, which isn't enough to change the rating to T so I thought you'd like to be warned here. Big thanks to Eli for looking over this chapter for me
> 
> Also, which one of you picked up on the _actual_ Buddie parallel in chapter 4? (not the best friends thing)

Work was grueling.

Between the job at the firm, and the hours he and his team put in overtime for their project, Christopher was exhausted more often than not by the time he got home. Which, these days, was never before eight o’clock.

They’d been working on a project to open a community center for at-risk kids with disabilities, because in all of LA, they hadn’t been able to find a single center that was completely accessible for children using assistive devices or children with invisible disabilities.

The center had been Denny, Anabiya and Christopher’s idea, one random night in college. They wanted to build a place for kids with disabilities to get access to resources they needed to transition into adulthood. 

The goal was for people to use the center to help themselves with whatever they needed to live the same lives able-bodied people lived - things like tutoring, financial support, job readiness, preparing for interviews, navigating travels alone, exercising or anything like that. The point was to encourage them to not think of the label ‘disabled’ as something wrong, the way Christopher had about his CP or Anabiya had about her dyslexia.

He’d spent months learning that he didn’t have to keep referring to himself as “someone with a disability.” He didn’t need to dumb it down for anyone; being disabled was part of his identity, but it didn’t stop him from living his best life. They were all hoping that kids would grow up proud of themselves, too, would come to realize that doing things differently wasn't a bad thing.

Not that they were going to close off to adults; they wanted to make it accessible for adults further down the line, but children were their top priority right now. That also included helping parents of disabled kids get the proper care they need, something Carla was helping them out with a  _ lot _ . 

Denny and Anabiya, both part of the business world, were working on the financial funding aspect, because they wanted to make the entire organization non-profit. That would leave them with only donations and investments to gather money from, and possibly from philanthropists or corporates. 

Christopher and a few other people were working on locking down possible locations for the center, planning out all the activities and a few other formalities before they started going around asking for community support.

Perhaps he could ask his dads if they could possibly spread the word around first responders, for people who’d like to volunteer, or at least sign a petition about. Chimney probably could help them.

That thought in mind, Christopher carefully climbed the steps to the front door, letting himself in. His parents were home from work by now, evident from their cars in the driveway.

He was just about to yell out about his presence when he heard muffled arguing from their room. Christopher’s eyebrows shot all the way up as a sliver of dread settled in his chest.

Dad and Papa very rarely argued, if at all.

He padded quietly into the house, slipping off his shoes carefully and leaning his crutches against the front wall. His parents’ door was closed but Chris could hear their words crystal clear even from where he stood at the couch.

“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, babe.”

“What do you want me to say?” Dad sounded curt.

“Just... _ talk _ to me.”

“I can’t even think straight right now.”

There was a pause before Buck spoke, words more heated than before. “You can’t be mad at me for doing my job!” 

“What do you mean I  _ can’t _ ? You’re my husband, the father of our kid who’s about to get  _ married _ . I  _ can’t  _ lose you, Evan.” Dad’s voice cracked around the words. The use of Papa’s first name told Chris that whatever had happened was very serious indeed. “We’ve been doing this for  _ years _ , working side-by-side like always and I don’t understand how you can still be so  _ reckless _ ? I don’t understand how I don’t see it coming every time. How can you still not give a shit that you have a family to get back to?”

Christopher winced as he heard it. Dad hadn’t yelled but the words were said in a fit of rage anyway, and even where he was standing, he could feel his papa’s stricken expression.

There was a beat of silence, filled with Papa’s hurt. Chris felt guilty for eavesdropping on his parents but couldn’t bring himself to move.

Dad’s regret practically seeped through the supernaturally-still house. “Buck, I-” 

“We promised we weren't going to do this, Eddie,” he said quietly. “We both knew how the job was going to be, we both  _ knew  _ that it was going to be a struggle to watch each other throw ourselves into dangerous situations. The only reason we’ve been firefighters for the past seventeen or eighteen years is because we’re good at it, damn it!”

“Just because we’re good at it doesn’t mean we’re invincible!”

Buck heaved out a breath, his words getting angrier by the second. “I never said we were, and you know damn well that there isn’t a chance in hell I would put our family at risk. I knew what I was doing, and sometimes, I can’t believe you don’t trust that, even after all these years. I wasn’t  _ trying  _ to be reckless, but I couldn’t leave that man there, dead or not. And you, of all people, should know that.”

Christopher could feel Dad’s hurt as clear as day, too, but he thought back to what Buck had said - an ode to Dad’s army days. 

Chris had only gotten the full story out of him a few years ago, the topic having buried itself after fourth grade show-and-tell. He’d learned that Dad had pulled his squad out from a helicopter, hours after a crash landing, including a man that Dad knew was as good as dead.

His first hero had always been his dad, but hearing of his courage had only cemented it; Christopher’s chest had puffed out with pride. There was a dignity that came with doing something risky like that, an honor and a privilege granted to someone that probably won’t have even known. But Christopher remembered thinking that Greggs’ family had to have been grateful to Dad, for bringing their loved one back to him.

_ “It wasn’t the Silver Star that was the real reward. It was seeing his wife and children grateful that they’d have someone to bury. To give respect to their husband and father’s soul. These bullet wounds are reminders of it;  _ these  _ are the real rewards. The medal, the whole ‘decorated war-hero’ thing...all of that will always be secondary to the gratitude of Gregg’s family.” _

It seemed that Buck had just done the same thing. 

It wasn’t that Christopher had never seen Dad and Papa argue before. There’d been a fair share of fights but they’d never really lasted long. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time an argument lasted more than a day or two.

But most of the time Chris had seen them argue had been over trivial things, filled with more laughter and less ire. Maybe forgetting to write something on the grocery list, or not sorting the recycling properly, or putting empty containers back into the fridge.

It was never something like this.

"I don't want a fucking medal with your name on it! I want you in our space in one piece, not pulling someone who's  _ dead  _ out of a  _ burning building _ . Why does that mean more than our family?" Dad’s voice was just as heated, but somehow still breaking. 

“I’m not gonna hash this out with you right now. Not when you won’t even look at me, not when you want to throw those words in my face, and  _ definitely _ not when you’re going to question my commitment to this family.” 

When Buck left the room, he didn’t even notice Christopher standing there, which was a solid testament for how bad the argument really was.

He peeked into the room to see Dad sitting on the bed, head in his hands. The faint sound of sniffles echoed through the too-quiet house, tugging at Christopher’s heart. He wanted to go and see if he could help comfort them, but this was probably something he couldn’t fix no matter what. It would have to be Papa and Dad.

Deciding to give both of them a moment to cool down, Chris headed to his room to get changed into comfier clothes. He spared a moment to look at his engagement ring as he tugged on pajamas.

He’d popped the question two months ago, right before Anabiya’s birthday party. She’d finished her internship by then, and had moved right back to LA, and Christopher was ready to just marry her.

They weren’t in any way ready for that with new jobs and especially with the work on the community center project, so Christopher had settled for simply proposing. They’d talked over it and decided that a longer engagement would work out in their favour. 

Tonight had been one of those evenings that Anabiya and Christopher were almost grateful that they hadn’t decided to add a huge wedding to their plate. For now, they were simply happy with being engaged. 

Anabiya’s culture, though, had definitely meant a formal engagement party that took place a few days later. The picture on his desk only served to remind him of it; Anabiya and Christopher were seated in a center sofa, her clad in traditional South Asian attire and him in a button-down shirt and slacks. Dad and Papa had taken the seats next to him and Biya’s parents were sitting next to her. 

He remembered the moment his best friend slid the ring on his finger, a tradition he wasn’t familiar with but wasn’t complaining at  _ all _ about. He liked the feel of it on his hand, a tangible reminder of him deserving the same things as able-bodied people whenever his insecurities got the better of him.

All of them looked so happy, and Christopher truly couldn’t remember a time where he was so content. But at the same time, walking into his parents’ argument had an uneasy feeling shifting through him. 

Just as quick as the thought came, he dismissed it. His parents had one of the strongest relationships he had ever seen. One argument wasn’t going to make or break them, and Chris wouldn’t let it happen to him and his fiancée either.

Satisfied with being comfortable, he decided to get himself something to eat. Before he reached the kitchen, he noticed Papa’s figure sitting outside on the back porch.  He shouldn’t have been noticeable for how tucked in the back door was, and for a moment, Christopher wondered if he should even disturb whatever Papa was thinking about. 

Concern winning out, he stepped through the open door silently.

“Papa?”

He was sitting with a steaming mug of tea, staring up at the sky. His eyes were dimmer than normal, shaded in red, and Christopher could see faint tear tracks on his face. Papa smiled at him anyway, patting the porch next to him.

“Hey, kiddo. How was your meeting?”

Christopher lowered himself next to his father, wincing a little as his exhausted muscles stretched. The meeting had run all of them ragged, but it was worth it. “Good, we got a lot of things sorted out. We want to check out locations in the next two weeks, so we shortlisted a few options, set up viewings. Denny managed to score a funding meeting with a tech company, so he and Anabiya are going to pitch the idea forward with them next week.”

“Are you still looking for fundraising?” Papa asked, tapping an absent finger on the side of his mug as he swiped at his face. 

Christopher nodded. “Yeah. We just haven’t worked out those details yet, because to hold that fundraiser, we need to advertise our project first. We were going to see if Chimney would let us hold something at the firehouse.”

Papa hummed in agreement to the plan of action. Chimney was the captain of the 118 now, taking the mantle after Bobby retired. He’d confided in Christopher that he was thinking of making Buck the captain after  _ he  _ retired, unbeknownst to the whole team. 

It was wild to see how much their family had changed over the past fifteen years, all of them still as close as always. At 24 now, Christopher almost couldn’t believe how his and Dad’s little adventure had ended up with more family than they’d come from.

“We’re proud of you guys, though. The whole team but especially you, Denny and Anabiya.” The ‘ _ our kids’  _ went unspoken, making him smile. “The project is great, and I know it’ll mean a lot to a lot of people.”

Christopher leaned into his father’s side as they watched the night sky. The collective use of “we” didn’t go unnoticed by him either, and he pondered upon it as the two fell into a companionable silence. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Papa. His face seemed older with the creases on his forehead, no sign of his quick laughter. He still stood tall and straight, shoulders still hunched when he was trying to hide away from something, completely familiar to Christopher after the past seventeen years despite how much all three of them had changed. 

Papa’s hair was graying slightly at the temples, almost unnoticeable because of his pale skin. It was a running joke that he looked more and more like Bobby as he got older. Dad, on the other hand, had silver weaved into his dark hair that pretty much stood out. It wasn’t as bad as other men his age, even if his stubble was dotted with white patches by now. 

The first time Christopher saw a gray strand on his head, he’d nearly seized up with an irrational panic, not liking the idea of his dad growing old. The only thought that made it merely placable was that his dad wasn’t growing old alone, and that made seeing gray hairs on Buck’s head bearable, too. 

It was that thought that gave him the push to ask his papa a burning question. 

“Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?” Papa turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know...this? Marriage? Or rather…marrying someone in the same field as you?”

Papa blinked at him a couple of times, before giving him a familiar narrowed look. “I’m going to assume this has everything to do with Anabiya and absolutely  _ nothing  _ to do with your eavesdropping on our fight.”

“You got me there. I’m sorry for eavesdropping, though,” Christopher laughed, slightly embarrassed at having been caught. “This isn’t about Anabiya, I just don’t think I worded my question right. I meant...do you regret marrying someone whose job is just as dangerous as yours?” 

They sat in silence for a while before Buck spoke. “I could never regret marrying your dad, ever. He is literally my better half, inspires me to be the best version of myself every single day. You both do. The job is really just a coincidence, something that brought us closer.

“We’ve worked together as a team from the very first day, and while some couples probably feel the pressure of watching someone they love willingly fall into danger, Eddie and I feel better having each other’s backs. I feel uneasy when he’s not there with me, because a part of me is always screaming at me to look over my shoulder. I practically hear him in my head,” Buck laughed lightly, setting the mug down to lean back on his palms. 

Trust...another thing to add to  _ The Love Definition _ . 

Now in a steady relationship of his own, Christopher knew that trust and communication were practically foundations of a healthy relationship. Without them, everything crumbled. He could hear Papa’s love for his husband clear in his voice, tangible in his approach. 

Papa sighed. “Yeah, we do have these arguments sometimes but today, he was partially right. I took a huge risk on that call. There was a five-second window for me to grab that patient, and we all knew he was dead, but I couldn’t leave him there. The floor cracked under me but thankfully didn’t break. Those few seconds were enough to scare him.

“When we started dating, we knew this was going to be a bone of contention between us. It’s hard watching the love of your life run into burning buildings or go through underground tunnels that could collapse any second, even if you’re the one at his back. And we’re usually good about not letting it interfere with our home life, even if it gets to be a little too much on days like this.”

Christopher thought over this. “Then how do you deal with it? Knowing your life partner could…”

“Trust,” Buck said simply, thankfully not making him say the words. “I trust your dad to do his job and fight to come home to me, to our family. And he does the same. Because at the end of the day, if something happens, it’s the people left behind that will hurt the most. Sometimes that pressure crushes us, and we lash out like this.”

Him and Biya would never really experience that. Papa and Dad put their lives on the line every day, and while they were important parts of Christopher’s life too, losing one wouldn’t bode well for the other.

“But I will also say this...sometimes, arguments are necessary to show you the things you need to work on. My recklessness, even if it stems from good intentions, has always been something I’ve tried to reign in. The need to _help_...sometimes, I’m still that same twenty-six year old who just...doesn’t think. Now, instead of driving Bobby up the wall, I’m driving both Eddie  _ and  _ Chim. Today was one of those days.”

“Why’d you go back for him though?”

Christopher thought Papa wouldn’t answer when he looked away, past the fence at where overdue holiday decorations still hung, but he was surprised. “I thought I saw him move, even though I knew it was a long-shot from the amount of blood he’d lost. It would’ve been on my conscience forever if I hadn’t gone back, if there was even a half-percent possibility for him to make it through.”

“But Dad’s not blameless, is he?”

“It’s not about the blame game. A lot of people get caught up in it, but that's not Eddie and I. We both said hurtful things, and we need a bit to cool down, is all,” Papa shrugged, sipping his tea. “That’s important to remember; it’s about going through the rougher times together. Especially because your significant other sees a side of you that you don’t show others. Yeah, there are always going to be some things we  _ can’t  _ change, like the job, and sometimes, we can’t help but regret those things. But ultimately, it’s about what’s worth it - fighting for what’s important to you. When you and Anabiya fight, you handle things together, right?”

They hadn’t really had any huge arguments like that yet, outside of that very first one. That day, Dad had given him the exact same advice - them two against the argument. 

The ones they did have were usually for the strain long distance had put on them, but they were never very big arguments. Christopher shrugged non-committedly, letting Papa’s voice roll over him, silently slipping each piece of advice into his mental notebook.

“Eddie and I just have our own way of getting through things. But there hasn’t been a single moment in the past fifteen years that I’ve regretted anything with him. Like I said, he’s my other half - the better part of me.”

* * *

Buck thought about the advice he gave Christopher long after his son went back inside. 

He hadn’t lied at all. In fact, he was actually pretty proud of the teachings he’d given his kid, who was now on the brink of forming his own bond with someone.

Still, he’d hidden just  _ how much  _ Eddie’s words had hurt. 

They echoed in his mind as he sat in the chilled night air, goosebumps dotting his skin even with the warmth of the ceramic mug seeping through numb fingers. The cold wind took the edge off his anger and let him think more clearly.

There had been a lot of ugly words that had flared up inside him, thankfully only a few slipping past his tongue. Words about how hypocritical Eddie was being, because his legacy had also nearly ended with a medal, too. Shannon and Christopher could’ve easily gotten a box with his name on it for going back for a dead soldier, instead of their husband and father.

That would’ve crossed more lines that Buck would ever be willing to cross. Those words would’ve shattered his husband, and he was glad he hadn’t said them - even as they’d hung unspoken between them while they fought.

It wasn’t just the argument that laid heavy on him. It was also the loss of that life, the person who would’ve bled out in his hands if he hadn’t already been dead.

Even after nearly twenty years with the LAFD, Buck never really managed to get past the people they lost; he remembered every single one of them. It wasn’t often that they lost someone, thankfully, but it happened from time to time. 

Those days weighed heavier, until he thought he’d never get up again. Those were the days Eddie would gently take him home, let him fall apart and then carefully put the pieces back together.

Buck had no doubt in his mind that Eddie would’ve done the same today, but he  _ had  _ come very close to plummeting five stories. And Eddie was forced to watch, because Buck hadn’t given anyone a heads-up before lunging for the patient.

Days like this, he remembered his own helplessness the day Eddie cut his line to get Hayden out of the pipe. He remembered taking Eddie back home, pressing kisses onto his skin until there was no doubt that he had people to fight to come back for. He remembered waking up in a flurry of tears and harsh breathing, blindly reaching for his partner’s pulse. He remembered Eddie whispering “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here” over and over as they curled tightly together, the words meant to comfort both of them.

His husband still struggled with things spiraling out of his control, and Buck understood that. He’d scared him, backed him into a corner, and his anger only stemmed because of how much he loved him.

That didn’t justify his actions though. Eddie had let his fear overshadow his trust in Buck, had let his anger get the better of him again. He’d lashed out again, but so had Buck.

They’d done so much better about their respective flaws in the years they’d been together, but sometimes, it got too overwhelming.

A blanket draped over his shoulders, immediately alerting Buck to his husband’s presence. Another one of Eddie’s little ways to show love - he knew how cold Buck got. Still feeling petty and a little crestfallen, he tugged the ends of the blanket to him tightly, ignoring Eddie sitting down next to him. The three inches separating them felt like miles.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered. “I shouldn’t have said those words, shouldn’t have gotten so mad.”

Buck hummed but didn’t give him an inch, letting him speak. 

“Buck, will you look at me?” he urged. Buck shook his head, turning his head to the opposite side to look at the few tendrils of steam rising from the mug, blocking his face from Eddie’s view as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth to keep from crying. He could already feel his eyes become watery, and it just made him feel pathetic.

Not because Eddie would judge him for crying, but because he’d wanted to hold onto his anger for a little while longer.

There was a loaded beat of silence, then his husband continued. “Okay, but can I have the chance to explain?”

“Yeah,” Buck croaked, clearing his throat and tightening his grip on the blanket.

“When I heard the floor give under you, and this entire thing sounds kind of stupid given that it was you that was in danger, but I swear to you that my life flashed before me. Because God forbid, if that floor had cracked, you would’ve gone straight down. And there wouldn’t have been anything I could’ve done.

“I know I let my anger get the better of me, because it was a rough call and we didn’t need to argue tonight, but I’m sorry, Buck. Even if you were reckless, I know you’d have done anything you could. I know you’d do anything to come back to me,” Eddie pleaded. 

Finally, Buck turned to look at him, his heart squeezing at the sight of his husband’s haggard expression. He could tell that Eddie had already cried, but even now, tears glimmered in his eyes, too. 

The stress of the day finally got to them both, and Buck let go of his anger with a sigh, just as Eddie had when he came out here.

“I’m sorry, too. I know I should’ve been careful about it. I thought I saw him move, and that’s all I registered before I lunged for him. I just kept thinking, what if he was alive, and we’d left him to die?”

“I figured it had to be something like that. I will always trust you to do your job, sweetheart, and I did a horrible job of showing that tonight. I’m sorry,” Eddie reached forward tentatively, cupping his face to swipe a thumb under his eye. “I love you, and I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or don’t trust your commitment to this family.”

“I was just mad,” Buck whispered. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know. I didn’t mean anything I said either,” Eddie smiled faintly before retreating, taking his warmth with him. Buck almost followed his hand before he realized  _ he  _ was the one wrapped in a blanket.

But before that, he had to ask Eddie something that pushed at both of them as they got older. They may be fit and healthy for their respective ages, but it was still a vivid possibility in such a physically-demanding job. “Eddie...what if…”

He’d been about to ask what if one of them  _ did  _ come home in a box one day, but couldn’t make his mouth form the words. The thought of losing Eddie was far too painful to even fathom, even though it flashed through his mind every single time they went on call. His heart hammered at the mere possibility, throat closing up.

“Not today,” Eddie closed his eyes, shaking his head as if in pain. He opened them to look at Buck with anguished eyes. “I came way too close to living that possibility today, don’t make me do it again,  _ please _ .”

He wanted to kiss him so badly, wanted to reassure him that he wasn’t going anywhere if he could help it.

Silently, he held an arm out, opening the blanket up for Eddie. A small grin took hold of his expression in place of the pained one as he scooted closer, curling into Buck’s chest. His ear was positioned right over Buck’s heart, mirroring all those days Buck needed to make sure Eddie’s heart was still pounding steadily.

He knew his husband was still shaken, and tried to put all his love into holding him close, as much as they could from this position. In turn, the tension from the day eased out of his own shoulders.

“Did you think we’d end up here?” Buck asked into Eddie’s hair. It was a common question over the course of their marriage, and he could feel his husband shaking with laughter at being asked again.

“I think I was too scared to let myself believe I could have something so good. I mean...look at us - nearly fifteen years under our belt. Our kid is thriving with his job, he’s working on the community center to help other people like him, and he’s grown up to be so independent. And he’s about to marry a great girl who loves him just as much as I love you,” Eddie listed, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. Buck held him close, not letting him pull away. 

It was a slow kiss, pressing their adoration of one another into each other’s skin.

“I love you,” Buck murmured against his lips, feeling them curve up.

Somehow, even after fifteen years of togetherness, every kiss felt just like the first one, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Familiar for the press of Eddie’s lips against his own, and unfamiliar because each kiss still felt new. He still got that thrill at the base of his spine just at Eddie’s proximity, though God knew that neither of them were young, hopping men anymore. 

The excitement that had initially hit him when he saw Eddie’s ring on his finger or his ring on Eddie’s didn’t really go away over the years - and Buck hoped to hell that it never did. It was still so novel to him that this brilliant man with the amazing son pulled him so deeply into their fold, that he got to call them  _ his _ . 

“I’m too young to get nostalgic about you,” Buck told his husband, who only laughed, shifting so he was nestled between Buck’s legs. Eddie was two years out from turning fifty, but Buck was still forty-three. In his mind, that made all the difference.

“Maybe,” he allowed, “but you love me anyway.”

Buck only adjusted his grip wordlessly so both of them were fully wrapped in their blanket, his front against Eddie’s back. This way, he could bracket Eddie with his whole body, could bask in holding his world in his arms.

It had been a rough day, but they’d gotten past it. In a few minutes, they’d go back in to check on their son before curling into bed together. Tomorrow, they’d spend their day off mapping their love into each other’s skin. And on their next shift together, they’d fall right back into their normal sync.

For now, Buck was more than happy to hold his partner close, both of them blissfully unaware of Christopher watching them with a smile from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, that project is a real one, an idea my friends and I are briefly working on while we stumble through MCAT studying, it's a whole thing.
> 
> Also, the engagement ceremony is called a _sagai_ or a _roka_ and is usually a South Asian tradition!


	6. twenty-six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the end! Thank you all for waiting so patiently for this chapter, I know I'm like three days late in uploading it, but I've included a bonus at the end of this chapter to make up for it ;)
> 
> It's been rough. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed their journey as much as I did! <3
> 
> Thank you to everyone who listened to me ramble about them and help me make decisions! Enjoy the final chapter <3

Like all milestones, there was a party.

And like all previous milestones, it was held at Aunt Athena and Cap’s house.

“Look at us, right on time for once,” Anabiya beamed, walking beside him up the driveway with a tray of dessert in her hands. She was dressed in a gorgeous sari with a simple necklace and the ring Christopher had given her at their wedding. 

When she’d come out of their room this morning, Christopher had really just stared with his mouth open, making her flush.

“You’re going to make us late,” she’d told him before surreptitiously shoving him out of the apartment they’d moved into after getting married. 

Christopher laughed about the timely comment as he knocked on the door. It was true; they were usually bare minimum ten minutes late to everything, a habit everyone attributed to his dads. 

Bobby swung the door open, face lighting up as he caught sight of them.

“Hey, Cap,” Chris greeted the older man, who just smiled and shook his head, pulling them into warm hugs.

“I’m not Cap anymore, kid, just call me Bobby. You can call Chim that,” Bobby laughed, pointing to where the man in question was trying to coax his eight-year-old son into not shoving his hands into a platter of appetizers.

“You’ll always be Cap in my mind,” he grinned, remembering the man from all those years ago, asking him if he was any good with the hose. “It’s either that or Grandpa. Grandpops if we’re _really_ feeling it.”

“Cap works,” he said quickly. Everyone knew Papa was pretty much his adoptive son, and Christopher took it at such - and maybe a prime opportunity to tease Bobby, too. 

Anabiya laughed at the familiar quip, squeezing his arm to go around to where May was standing with her son and husband.

“Are they here yet?” he asked, scanning the room to find it bursting to the brim with people. There was Carla talking to Uncle Michael, Pepa and Abuela with Aunt Athena, Denny and Harry’s girlfriends discussing something. A few kids were running around in the corner and there were a bunch of people Christopher didn’t even recognize but were probably from the firehouse.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Bobby chuckled, gesturing over to where Dad and Papa were talking to Aunt Maddie and Aunt Hen. “For once, Buck and Eddie are _on time_. How about you? How are you and Anabiya?”

“Honestly, it’s great.” Christopher shifted on his crutches a little, moving to face him. “It was a bit of a shift with moving into a new apartment, and living together for the first time, but it’s exactly how Dad and Papa described marrying your best friend would be like.”

“They would know, yeah,” Bobby agreed, looking fondly towards them. “Go meet them. It seems like your wife beat you to it.”

Biya was already tucked under Dad’s arm, laughing away with Aunt Maddie. His chest warmed at the sight, for how easily things had slipped in place for them. His whole family loved Anabiya and the other new additions to their family as if they’d been there forever.

Christopher chuckled and made his way over, stopped a few times by some of the familiar firefighters that worked with his dads.

“Chris!” Buck exclaimed, hugging him close and making him smile. “Hey, buddy!”

“Hi Papa. Happy anniversary, guys,” he congratulated as he moved to hug Dad. 

“Thanks, kiddo. How are you doing?”

He didn’t get to answer the question before May was gesturing him over. Denny, Harry and Nia were standing there too, along with Chimney and Aunt Maddie’s oldest daughter, Layla.

Dad laughed, pushing him in that direction. “Go. They’ve been waiting for you for a while. We’ll stick with Biya.”

“Uh, no. You stick with Papa, I’m taking Biya with me,” he teased, automatically reaching for his wife’s hand, thumb tracing her wedding ring. Aunt Maddie cooed in the back, making him flush but Papa swatted her away before turning to his husband.

“Face it, Eds. Your kid is your brand of romance - the secret kind. Right, Biya?”

“He’s both of you, and _I_ would know,” she teased back, laughing when Papa’s mouth dropped open in indignation. But he looked proud, which was another warm feeling all on its own. 

Dad let out another belly laugh at Papa’s antics, wrapping an arm around his waist. “See? Told you.” He turned back to Chris, winking merrily.

“Uncle Eddie! Buck!” Denny called again. “Talk to Christopher later, we need him over here.”

Dad’s jaw dropped, as he gestured between himself and Papa. “Excuse you, why is he just Buck and I’m _Uncle_ Eddie? Kid, we’ve talked about this!”

“Because you’re older. You’re like fifty.” Denny shrugged. 

Dad’s eyebrows shot up, completely offended. Buck was losing it, leaning onto Aunt Maddie as he laughed loudly. Even Aunt Maddie couldn’t help but laugh, though she patted Dad’s shoulder sympathetically, having also crossed into the fifties a few years ago. 

Dad was kidding no one with that offended look, especially as he turned to glare at his husband; it was really quite dramatic. Christopher rolled his eyes at how his dad somehow still managed to look disgustingly fond, but turned to look at his wife. “You coming?”

Biya shook her head, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “I was talking to Aunt Maddie and Aunt Hen about the healthcare situation at the center, I’ll join you in a bit.” 

He nodded and walked over, only to find them crowded around one small book. A _very_ familiar book.

 _The Love Definition_ in its very primitive form. 

It could hardly be called a “book” with its ragged condition. The pages were slightly yellowed and frayed after nearly twenty years, but May’s neat handwriting was still etched into the white strip on top of the purple cover.

“Holy...where’d you find that?”

“I went looking for it in my old boxes today. Buck and Eddie’s sixteenth anniversary definitely deserves a little nostalgic attention,” she claimed, pointing to where his dads were now standing with their arms linked around one another, content smiles on their faces. 

“Open it!” Harry rubbed his hands together eagerly.

The notebook was divided into four sections, one for each of the couples. Not that they used all the pages; at the most, they’d written in only one page per couple. 

The first section was for Aunt Athena and Cap, “Bobby and Athena” scrawled at the top in Harry’s chicken scratch.

Under the heading were random points in varied handwriting.

_Being there for one another_

_Accepting each other fully_

_Loving freely_

_Bobby and Michael being best friends_

Aunt Karen and Aunt Hen’s sections were next. Denny and Nia laughed at the points written under their moms’ names.

_Getting through rough times together_

_Not being afraid to love_

_Being honest_

_Supporting each other’s dreams_

Next came Chimney and Aunt Maddie, under “Chimney and Maddie” written in May’s perfect cursive.

_Being strong for one another_

_Going slow_

They all laughed at the sight of a nine-year-old Denny’s _(Mom says like glaciers)_ scrawled next to it. But the next point made them laugh even harder.

_Going home together because something smelled bad_

“That was when Aunt Maddie found out she was pregnant with you,” Christopher told Layla. “I think it was fish?”

“Yeah, salmon, the one she loved. Chimney brought it over, she caught a whiff and got nauseous,” May confirmed. “I don’t remember who wrote that. It definitely wasn’t me, but this book was created maybe a little bit after that. After Chris got back from summer camp.”

“Buck was upset for days when you left,” Harry told him. “Even more than Uncle Eddie.” 

Christopher shook his head fondly. “Dad says that Buck probably wouldn’t have let me get on the bus in the first place. But yeah, that summer camp was an experience. They listened to me ramble for _weeks_ about it - after Buck told me I was never allowed to leave again.”

They all burst into laughter at the reminder of Papa’s theatrics, drawing multiple suspicious eyes. Schooling their expressions best as they could, they leaned back over the book, giggles still slipping free.

The last section was for the guests of honor, “Buck and Eddie” written in Christopher’s nine-year-old handwriting. He smiled, drifting a finger over it as he read through.

_Best friends_

_Hugging each other all the time_

_Not wanting them to leave_

_Lots of love_

There were sparse drawings littered throughout the ratty pages, too - gratuitous use of stick figures and floating hearts to encompass the gravity of their parents’ relationships. Bonus points for all of them because the stick figures were holding hands, and some of them had pencil lines around their shoulders and waists to signify arms.

At age nine, love didn’t get better than that.

“You know, all of these points pretty much say the same thing,” Layla flipped through the pages, making the connections with one hovering finger.

“I think most of us kept it all more in our heads than we did through this notebook,” Christopher replied, adjusting his glasses. “I know I did. There were things Papa or Dad would say and I’d just mentally file it away.”

“Same with my parents,” Denny agreed. “There’s no way that there’s only three or four points to learn from all eight of them, and I’m pretty sure we only wrote in this once. But I still think this notebook was probably one of the best things we ever came up with together.”

“I think it helped us choose our life partners, too,” Harry said. They all hummed in agreement. Christopher’s gaze found Biya’s across the room, where she smiled at him in the middle of her conversation with May’s husband Cody.

“You should keep this.” May passed him the notebook, just in time for her son to tug on her pant leg to ask to go to the bathroom. She smiled down at Luka, picking him up and walking off with a slightly apologetic grin.

“It’s so weird that my sister’s a _mom_.” Harry watched her go, shaking his head as he turned back to them. “I mean I love Luka with everything in me, and I know it’s been four years but we weren’t thinking about all this when we horsed around together in the backyard or played video games.”

It was something that caught him off-guard more than he’d admit. Denny and Harry were both in long-term relationships now, too, and Christopher had just gotten married. None of this was on the radar twenty years ago.

“I’m still reeling from all this,” Denny gestured wildly to how full the room was. Even if there had been virtually no one but the original fire family and their kids here, they were a sizable bunch. It had grown almost double in the past twenty years, all of them growing up more like cousins than friends. “Like my sister was a tiny baby. Layla, too.”

At the teen years, neither Layla nor Nia took very well to the whole “tiny baby” thing. Especially Layla for being the younger one at sixteen. All the other kids playing in the backyard were younger than ten, leaving her kind of stuck in the middle.

“We’re standing right here, guys,” Nia deadpanned. Denny cooed at her, playfully ruffling her hair. She glared daggers into his skull, patting the wayward strands down.

“This notebook actually reminds me of this one psychology thing we did, when we were studying love languages,” Harry intervened, changing the subject before it got too out of hand. “It was literally a bunch of kids describing what love is. Some of them were hilarious, like squishy cheeks. This one kid said that it’s like kissing a girl for the first time, and you’ll never be bored because you can always think about kissing her. A seven-year-old said love is nothing, point blank.”

“We’ve got our entry here.” Christopher held up the book in his hand, laughing. “Actually no, that’d be cheating.”

“How?”

“May,” Denny answered. “She wasn’t a kid, so _technically_ , we’d be disqualified.”

Harry snorted. Then, looking pensive, he turned towards where Uncle Michael was standing with his husband. “I know we haven’t written in this book at all since then, but I’d think we would’ve added a section for Dad and Andrew.” 

Uncle Michael had married a doctor, one he’d met after his tumor was pronounced to be shrinking. They didn’t live in LA anymore, having shifted to Sacramento, but Christopher assumed that they’d come down specially for the party. Harry and May were pretty close to their other stepdad, too.

“Yeah, I think we would’ve,” Chris nodded.

“I mean, like we said, it’s always been up here,” Denny added, tapping a finger to his temple. “It’s not like it’s hard to see, with how they are with each other.”

“If Dad hadn’t had the courage to come out to Mom despite everything, I don’t think I would’ve either,” Harry said quietly. “He gave me the courage to stay true to being bisexual.”

Chris and Denny nodded to the sentiment, each of their gazes wandering to find their respective partners. Harry had dealt with a lot of conflict on how to define himself, especially when he started dating Ava. 

Secretly, Denny and Christopher had poured over websites and books, furiously trying to do something to make Harry feel more comfortable about his identity, even if they were in a place where they couldn’t quite understand. But Uncle Michael had been the one to tell him that his bisexuality didn’t go away just because he was dating someone of the opposite sex. 

Anabiya and Ava were walking towards them now, so the conversation shelved itself.

“Is that what I think it is?” Ava laughed, picking up the tattered book. 

“The infamous love life guide,” Biya smirked, slipping under his arm to wrap a hand around his waist. Christopher laughed and pointed at it.

“Hey now, it was that book that brought us here,” he teased, gesturing between the two of them.

Biya rolled her eyes, moving out of his hold to peer over Ava’s shoulder at the atrocious mix of handwriting. 

“‘Supporting each other’s dreams,’ ‘going home together because something smelled bad,’ ‘lots of love.’” Ava read out, before setting the book down. “Sounds like the recipe for a perfect relationship to me. Definitely written by nine-year-olds.”

“Hey! I was eleven!” Harry protested.

Denny took one look at them and groaned. “Man, I’m not fifth-wheeling. Where’s Bella?” With that, he disappeared to find his girlfriend, leaving them to laugh at his expense.

“I’m going to meet Abuela and Pepa, coming?” Chris asked Anabiya, who nodded.

Abuela was still far too strong for her age, and nothing about her said she was pushing 90 as she hugged Christopher tightly, rambling excitedly in a familiar mix of Spanish and English. Pepa, on the other hand, _adored_ Biya and pulled her away from Chris with a cursory glance to him the instant they got into range.

“I see how it is, Pepa,” he complained.

“Yes, you do,” she nodded before turning towards Biya, who was busy stifling her laughter. They started up a clear conversation that didn’t include Christopher at all, so he sunk in his seat, making a face at his wife.

“Is Pepa picking favourites again?” Buck appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to him. “I mean, you’re still Abuela’s favourite.”

“Yes you are,” Abuela agreed, patting his shoulder. “Evan tried to become my favourite so many times over the past twenty years. But it has always been Christopher.”

He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.

“Okay but I did get there a few times,” Papa insisted, unaware that Dad had snuck up behind him to perch himself on the armrest. “Wait, who’s your favourite grandson, because it _can’t_ be Eddie. Tell me you know this, Abuela.”

Abuela laughed, only gesturing for him to turn around. Christopher burst out laughing at the knowing, smug look on Dad’s face.

Papa sighed, already knowing this game. “He’s behind me, isn’t he.”

“You can’t play the same game literally every time we see Abuela and expect me _not_ to know,” Dad pointed out. “ _I’m_ her favourite.”

“How can you be her favourite?”

“How can I not?” Dad countered. Christopher rolled his eyes at their childish antics.

“Yeah, I’m not sitting here for this again. Because next comes the inevitable ‘who's your favourite dad’ competition, and I plead the fifth on that one,” he surrendered immediately, making his escape to find Chimney and leaving his squabbling parents and amused great-grandmother behind.

The man was standing guard by the cake table, where Layla and Aunt Karen were busy trying to fix one of the fallen arrangements. His son was humming to himself as he walked around, peering at each tray as if inspecting it.

Christopher always been pretty close to Chimney, ever since that fateful day of standing on hoses to play pinball and competing with the number of surgeries they’d had. After he’d married Aunt Maddie and Dad had married Buck, the two of them had only gotten closer over the years. 

Christopher would never admit this to anyone, but Chimney was his favourite uncle. Even if he vehemently denied the title of “Uncle Chim.”

“Kevin giving you trouble?”

Chimney perked up at the sound of his voice, abandoning his duties to come around and engulf him into a strong hug. “Hey, kid! How’ve you been?”

Unfortunately, that momentary lapse in concentration was enough for Kevin to steal a handful of candy, rushing off before his dad could catch him.

“Maddie’s going to kill me,” he groaned miserably. Christopher patted his arm sympathetically, because their eight-year-old was a _monster_ when he had a sugar high. He could already see Aunt Maddie’s eyes widen in dread at the sight of her son running past her with a fistful of candy.

“I think she saw you on guard duty. You’re going to be just fine. Don’t know about the Kevin part though.”

Chimney just shook his head, resolving himself to his fate. “Anyway, sixteen years, huh?”

“What, didn’t think they’d last?” Christopher laughed, nudging his uncle as he looked out at his dads, a strange sort of pride taking hold of him.

Chimney snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, we knew. From Eddie’s very first day.”

“Really?”

The older man chuckled gleefully, snagging one of the appetizers and popping it into his mouth. “Oh yeah. The tension was off the charts.”

Chris wrinkled his nose, not really wanting to think about his parents like _that_ . Aunt Karen saw the look on his face and burst out laughing. “It’s Buck and Eddie, Chris. We all knew. There were _a lot_ of bets, just for the two of them. High-stake ones.”

“You guys bet on everything,” he shook his head, eyes roaming the room. Layla hummed in agreement, shooting her dad a stink-eye.

“Well, those bets are what keeps everyone on their toes,” Aunt Athena added, coming around to hug him. “Don’t you think we didn’t know about your own bets and wagers.”

Their parents were too smart for their own good. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by a very familiar person.

“Christopher Diaz, do _not_ tell me you forgot about me.”

At the sound of Carla’s voice, Christopher laughed before turning to hug her. “I could never forget you, Carla. I just saw you yesterday.”

She snickered at his instant response. “Where’s Anabiya?”

“I swear all of you like her more than me,” he pouted, only half-teasing. Carla only raised her eyebrows. “She’s talking with Pepa, who stole her the second we walked over.”

“Hmm…” She looked up at him to give a mischievous smile. “You know, when I came here today, all I could think of was a nine-year-old Christopher asking me what love was.”

He chuckled at the memory, looking over to where Papa was leaning into Dad’s side, still talking to Abuela. Their hands were pressed together as usual, each move almost absent, done purely on instinct.

“It was hard not to wonder with all these people around us,” he told her. “But I’m really glad I asked you that day.”

Carla only smiled knowingly. “I’m really glad you asked, too.”

“I’m really glad too, because I ended up winning the bet and beating Hen, Bobby _and_ Athena,” Chimney butted in. Christopher laughed at the smug look on his face. “Maddie and I had a _great_ dinner with those winnings. Truly magnificent.”

“To this day, I think you cheated somehow. You two conspired together,” Aunt Karen accused, looking between them suspiciously.

“Us? No. We’ve never done anything wrong in our lives, ever,” Christopher told her, scoffing indignantly and stealing a pretzel stick. 

He and Chimney high-fived out of sight.

“You remind me so much of Buck when you do that, Jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head and walking away with Carla. 

Chimney burst out laughing. “We don’t need another one of those,” he teased, looking over to where Papa had moved onto talking to Bobby and Dad was talking to Aunt Maddie.

Well, another Buck wouldn’t be _such_ a bad thing.

* * *

After another half an hour, the party slowly began shifting outside, where the summer day was beaming down on them, offset by a cool breeze that ruffled the leaves. 

Tables had been set around the space, the middle table reserved for Bobby, Aunt Athena, Aunt Hen, Aunt Karen, Aunt Maddie, Chimney, Uncle Michael, Dr. Hale, Dad and Papa. Denny and Isabella claimed a table somewhere off to the right for their group, still joking in between themselves about juvenile things as they stuffed themselves with Aunt Athena’s famous appetizers. It was just like they had when they were kids. Everyone else was spread randomly around, now having turned to listen to Bobby as he called for their attention by tapping a spoon on a glass flute. 

“Thank you all for coming today, on such a special occasion. It is an honor to host you all for what seems like the hundredth time,” he joked, pulling laughs around. “Today, we’re celebrating Buck and Eddie’s sixteenth anniversary, and I’m going to preface this whole thing by saying that I’m so, so proud of you. It’s been an honor to see you two grow as each other’s partners in multiple ways, both as your captain and as your friend.

“Today, I’m going to tell you something I hadn’t really told you two over the course of the past twenty years - why I wanted Eddie to join the 118 instead of Station 6.”

“Finally!” Chimney exclaimed, earning him an exasperated look from Bobby. Even as current captain, Chimney hadn’t been privy to the story, a fact he lamented about to Christopher multiple times. Hell, even Chris didn’t know the story.

“When I was looking at the new recruits, Eddie’s resume stood out the most out of all the other candidates and I genuinely believed after a brief talk with him that he’d fit right in with the 118. But I was also looking at potential partners for Buck,” Bobby said, looking pointedly at Papa. Papa only laughed, leaning into Dad’s side.

“Well, you found one, Pops,” he quipped.

“I didn’t foresee that you’d _marry_ him, obviously. But I had a feeling that you two would work great together because you’d balance each other out and you did. It took one blown-up ambulance for me to realize that. And I’m not saying I recruited Eddie for Buck, specifically. I wanted him in my station no matter what, and that could’ve meant putting him on another shift.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t,” Dad piped up, looking a little touched. Christopher smiled, looking down at the copy of _The Love Definition_ sitting in front of him. Anabiya slid her hand in his, beaming at him.

Bobby only laughed, shaking his head. “You two are made for one another. You would’ve found your way, even if Eddie had gone to station 6. But yeah, I’m really glad I didn’t, either. So...tonight’s to you two. May you have many more anniversaries just like this one, and may we be there to celebrate them all with you.”

Cheers and applause sounded around as Papa and Dad got up to hug their old captain.

“If either of you interrupt me, I’m sitting right back down again,” Aunt Hen warned. Papa mimed zipping his lips, even as his eyes sparkled with emotion. Christopher had seen that look many times over the years but for some reason, tonight it felt different. So did the open look on Dad’s face.

Aunt Hen gave a surprisingly emotional speech to the couple, followed by more hugs and applause. Chimney followed with a less serious one, one that had them all laughing with the memories.

Then everyone turned to look at their table, and Chris...did not know what was going on.

“Chris, it’s your turn,” Denny hissed from the other side of him. 

_Oh, was_ he _supposed to speak?_

“Weren’t you supposed to write a speech?” Anabiya looked beyond amused at his floundering. 

Dad and Papa were staring at him too, just as amused as his wife. He was certain that no one warned him, but he was also recently married and there was no way he was going to remember _everything_.

“Somehow, this is your fault,” he muttered to Anabiya as he stood up, scrambling through his mind to pull together something. He spared a glance at the notebook in front of him, an idea coming to light. 

Holding the book up, he said simply, “ _The Love Definition_.”

There were sounds and looks of confusion all throughout the party but Christopher’s table erupted into laughter that only confused everyone more.

“This book was written...so many years ago. And in it, are things we’ve learned from each of the couples from the fire family. Aunt Athena and Cap are in here, Aunt Maddie and Chimney, Aunt Hen and Aunt Karen. We wrote in this a sum total of one time with a bunch of stick figures and excessive use of hearts, but for all of us, it was the concept that stayed with us all these years.

“May found it today, and that’s what we’ve been reminiscing about. But since it’s your guys’ anniversary, I’ll let you in on a few things from it - things that we noted down in the ‘Buck and Eddie’ section.”

Flipping the page open, Christopher read out the first point. “Best friends. That was the first thing any of us could see in you two, because...you _were_ best friends first. Partners. And somewhere down the line, that became more meaningful than just someone who knows you the best or someone you love. It also meant someone who knows you for the worst, and for everything in between. To quote Dad, someone who accepts you for changes even if they don’t like them.

“The next point was how much they _hugged,_ oh my God,” Chris said, shaking his head in exasperation. Dad laughed loudly at that one, because it was him that was the serial hugger in their house. “And I can’t remember exactly why that point was in here, but it was definitely tied in with not wanting each other to leave. Because before they got together, every time Buck left, we would get all sad for a second. Dad because he’s always hated how quiet the house got after Buck left, and me because at eight-years-old, my best friend going home meant that it was bedtime.”

Papa looked like he was already crying, but he was grinning widely still, so Chris continued. “The last point was...lots of love. Now keep in mind, this book was written by an eighteen-year-old, an eleven-year-old and two nine-year-olds. And even back then...I think you guys had just gotten together when this book was made, but the four of us saw that it was on par with the other three couples. So we added it in.”

He turned his attention away from his dads for a second, focusing on all the other faces listening enraptured to him. “When I say that the concept of this one old notebook shaped our own perceptions of love, I mean it in the best way possible. Because not a single one of our fire family only showed us the good sides of it. At the end of it, as much as we romanticize how in love they are, being in a relationship like theirs is hard; you have to put the work in and it’s not always pretty. All of those things defined love in a lot of ways for me, for all of us.” He gestured around their table where Denny, May and Harry were sitting with their partners, grinning widely at him.

Taking a deep breath, Chris paused to just look out at his family’s faces from where he stood. His dads looked on at him with pride, patiently waiting for him to speak. His aunts and uncles were grinning, periodically nudging the two.

“Love is Papa not letting Dad into the kitchen to spare all of us.” There were titters of laughter and hooting from where their fire family sat. Dad glared at him playfully, the tears in his eyes betraying his mock-anger. 

Christopher grinned at him but kept talking. “It’s Dad making sure Papa doesn’t do anything reckless. It’s Papa leaving half the crossword for Dad just so he can be smug about knowing all the answers. It’s Dad going ballistic trying to find a bandage for Papa’s paper cut. It’s Papa _trying_ not to smile every time Dad’s Texan drawl comes out. It’s Dad going out of his way to pick up those horrible chips only Papa likes. And it’s Papa constantly flirting with Dad even after seventeen years of being together. 

“It’s…” Christopher tried to find the right phrase before settling on, “it’s a lot.”

By this point, even Dad was crying freely, clutching at Papa’s hand. That image gave him the strength to keep talking. “When I was a kid, I thought they’d outgrow all the hand-holding and need to be next to each other all the time, just like all kids do - and the gross kissing too. But it didn’t happen. In fact, it probably got worse,” he laughed to himself, not paying attention to anyone else anymore but his parents who were also laughing, tears glimmering in their eyes. “It was annoying the way they _always_ knew what the other was trying to say with just a glance or a pointed look. Annoying in the way all kids get when you think your parents are trying to hide things from you.

“As I started getting older, it became the standard. And yeah, I think all of us can agree with the fact that it was really, really intimidating.” Denny and Harry stood up immediately to start whistling, pointing at their parents in mock anger. 

Christopher laughed as he continued. “None of you guys had any reason to set our standards so high up,” he mock-scolded.

“I asked Dad once, why he _always_ wore his ring. In the past sixteen years, I have never seen him nor Papa without it. And he said...that it’s a piece of my heart with me, always. And at eleven years old, that didn’t mean _anything_ to me. At twenty-four...with a ring of my own, I understood. I knew what it meant to...you know, have a partner who loves you for you, with no exceptions.” He smiled down at Anabiya, blushing at the sounds of cooing from the audience. His wife only rested her hand on his, beaming up at him, eyes sparkling.

“But, yeah. Now that I’m 26, none of those things have ever really gone away. You guys have taught me many things over the years, but right now? I can’t think of anything outside of how you taught me to love, or be in love. You guys taught me the foundations of a relationship, the trust and communication needed for one. You two taught me what it meant to stay together even when you were fighting. 

“If I know what true love looks like, it’s because of you two. Here’s to many, many more years of love and togetherness. I love you guys,” he finished. The last sentence was hardly over before his dads were rushing at him, sandwiching him between them. Christopher laughed wetly but freed his arms to sling them over their shoulders.

“We love you, so so much, kiddo,” Papa whispered. 

Dad pressed a kiss to his forehead, just like all those years ago, in a kid-sized bed amidst a glaring confession.

Christopher grinned wider, looking at his dad. “I told you we’d be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” Dad laughed wetly, wiping his face and dragging him in for a proper hug. “I love you, Christopher.”

He’d already been pretty emotional for the speech, but the vivid recollection of a little boy and his father on a porch brought tears to his own eyes.

_“I was thinking about taking another trip. And I was wondering, maybe, if you wanted to come with me.”_

_“Together?”_

_“Together.”_

Chris looked up at Buck, who was beaming widely at the two of them, completely indifferent for the tears streaming down his face. _This_ was a possibility neither of them would’ve seen coming, the possibility of a man like Buck in their lives. The unwavering support he’d given them, how the three of them had stepped up for one another, all in a bid to keep from drowning.

And they’d made it.

* * *

“For an impromptu speech, that wasn’t bad,” Anabiya teased, leaning into his side as they sat alone at their table.

After Christopher’s speech, Aunt Athena and Aunt Karen had brought out the anniversary cake. It was a simple two-tiered cake with one of their wedding pictures on it. Papa and Dad sliced into it, feeding each other bites before Dad let Kevin stick his hands in a tiny piece to appease the eight-year-old, much to Chimney’s amusement.

Since cake-cutting was done first to put off the inevitable sugar high, food came right after. The rest of the herd had decided to rush in for first dibs, but the two of them had wanted to enjoy the summer day for a bit, so they stayed put. The table was tucked far enough into the yard that they could steal a few moments of privacy.

Christopher chuckled, pointing at the book. “It’s that book - the concept. Sticks with you when you grow up seeing it.”

“I bet it does. I hope that’s us up there one day. Sixteen years. Maybe a kid or two,” she listed sweetly, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah,” Christopher grinned at the thought of that, pulling his wife closer. “I want all of that, and more with you Biya. Because I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. 

Chris bent down to kiss her smiling mouth, his own lips curving up with how happy he was.

He looked into the house, where he could see Aunt Maddie hugging Dad. Christopher thought to himself as Dad pulled his husband into the hug too, that Bobby was onto something when he said Dad and Papa would’ve found their way to each other.

After all, true love found its way.

* * *

**bonus:**

Eddie leaned back against his husband as he felt the familiar weight of Buck’s arms circle him. The smile on his face only grew as Buck swayed them gently, both looking out where they could see their son and daughter-in-law laughing.

Most of the party had dispersed after sunset, leaving mostly their original fire family. Eddie had come out here for fresh air and a little break from the chaos, but the sight of Chris and Anabiya had him almost overwhelmed.

Christopher had grown up to be the same open, happy person that he was as a kid, and that achievement burned through Eddie with pride. His son didn’t grow up with the same toxic reservations that he did, and for that, Eddie would remain forever grateful. 

He couldn’t quite believe that his little boy was now someone’s husband. Three months after the wedding, Eddie still reeled back from the realization that his little boy, who was just asking him if dogs knew they were dogs, was now _married_. 

His and Buck’s journey was something that never failed to make Eddie feel a little teary, either, with the strength of how much he loved him. He’d lucked out with his best friend, with his son, with this found family that only seemed to grow.

“What are you thinking about?” Buck’s breath ghosted over his ear, their height difference a little more prominent like this.

“Just about how lucky we are,” he smiled, tilting his head to capture his husband’s lips in a kiss. Buck hummed, smiling against his mouth.

“Yeah. We really are.”

“Did you think we’d end up here?” Eddie asked. Buck chuckled at the age-old question, holding him tighter.

“Hmm...well, my husband of sixteen years,” Buck started, a gleeful note to his voice before it turned serious, “I knew that there was no chance I was letting you and Christopher get away from me. I just...wanted to be there, no matter what capacity, but I didn’t think it’d be in this form. Not that I’m complaining, because I’m not. This is more than I could ever hope for twenty years ago.” 

Eddie turned to face him, just admiring his smiling husband for a second. Buck looked virtually the same as he had all those years ago, his hair paling with time. His laugh lines had only deepened with age, and Eddie could read parts of their journey on each divot of his skin, mapped with love. 

Right now, with Buck staring at him softly and a faint grin flitting across that mouth that still drove him insane, Eddie fell in love with him one more time.

The illusion of privacy gave him the courage to speak in a way he probably wouldn’t outside their house.

“When I look at Christopher sometimes, all I can think about is how we’d come here with virtually nothing. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t have support for him, I didn’t have a partner. I had Pepa and Abuela and that’s it. Because I just wanted a new life for us, where we weren’t under everyone’s scrutiny all the time.

“But when you came crashing into my life, for the first time, I felt like I had someone on _my_ side.” Buck’s eyes glimmered, a tear falling from his gorgeous, expressive eyes. Eddie leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Buck, I could tell you in a thousand ways how much I love you, but it’ll never be enough. Three words, sixteen years, nothing is ever going to come close to the strength of what I feel for you.”

His husband only leaned down to kiss him, tasting of salt and love and _Buck_. 

“I want all the years with you, Eddie. Forever and always,” Buck whispered, running his thumb in circles where his hands were now cradling his neck. Eddie grinned, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling a cheeky smile from him. “And that means you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow you, Diaz. I’m sticking with you to the end. And even beyond that.”

“That’s one way to put it, Mr. Diaz,” Eddie murmured, tilting their foreheads together. “I mean, I did say you could have my back any day.”

Buck let out one of his familiar laughs at the reminder of that fateful day, tilting Eddie’s chin up to kiss him as he reminisced his promise, nineteen years later.

“Or you know...you could have mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's 50 in this chapter, putting Buck at 45 xD
> 
> The study mentioned above is very real. It was one of the inspirations for this entire fic.
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this journey! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments make my day, so thank you to everyone who leaves them! I love hearing what you guys think, and anyone who takes time out of their day to comment has my heart and soul <3
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [zeethebooknerd](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/zeethebooknerd) or on Twitter at [tkreyesevandiaz](https://twitter.com/tkreyesevandiaz).


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